


Cake or Break

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, alternative universe, other familiar faces appear fleetingly in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 96,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been an accident - an actual accident - that had brought Sawamura Daichi to a pleasant, sunny side street in Tokyo on his way to work. </p><p>But then he'd caught sight of an angel with quicksilver hair setting out the tables at a cafe, and he'd stopped, dumbstruck. And when the waiter-cum-owner-cum-angel-in-human-form had turned around and smiled, all the breath had left his body.</p><p> </p><p>A story about chance meetings, the importance of cake and how a sack of icing sugar can change your life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angel Cake

**Author's Note:**

> The main paring in this is Daisuga. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are in an established relationship.  
> There are also two past relationships mentioned.
> 
> You will recognise other characters in this story as they appear, and I'll add them when I update, but let's have a little mystery :D
> 
> This story started off after I sent a head canon to the wonderful AndyZambie on tumblr. It was off the top of my head, and I wasn't planning on doing anything with it, but after her encouragement as well as Noemi's (thewindraiser) I decided to write a short story ... which has become a 15 chaptered fic (ahem).
> 
> (I am currently terrified about posting this because I've been talking about it for ages.)

It was a warm morning, even for late June in Tokyo, and as the stores in the pleasant side street began to shake off the dust of the night, one shop owner tentatively peeked out through the blinds before unlocking the door. His apprentice hurried in, muttering an apology for being late (which he wasn’t) and made his way directly to the store room to pick up his apron.  Lingering on the doorstep awhile, Sugawara Koushi waited.

A man appeared out of the newsagents, taller than Suga and around the same age, but the resemblance ended there. He had dark, cropped hair, unlike Suga’s fluffy blond mop, and broad shoulders, currently encased in a dark grey suit and really rather stunning red shirt.

 _Perhaps you’ll come in today?_ Suga mused, then bit his lip to stop himself feeling wistful. What was it to him if the man over the road dropped by? He’d not shown any interest in coming in before. It was just that he was there, and had been for the past week. Leaving the door slightly ajar, Suga hurried to the back room to find an apron.

 

“He’s out there again, isn’t he?” Tooru said.

Suga blinked and tried not to react as he formulated his answer.  Maybe he could pretend he hadn’t heard.

But as Tooru flicked over the pages of his book, a slight frown creasing his face, he repeated his question.

“Yes... uh ... I don’t know ... um... Who are you talking about?” Suga replied, hoping he didn’t sound flustered.

Tooru gave him a very knowing look, a ‘you-know-exactly-who-I’m-talking-about-Koushi’ type of look. The one Suga knew he’d have to box very carefully around because he knew from past experience how tenacious Tooru could be when he got an idea in his head.

“That customer. Or rather the _non_ customer. Broody-McBroad-Shoulders -san. The one you have the hots for.”

Suga attempted a laugh. It came out quite well, so he laughed again. “You say I have the hots for every customer. Last week it was that doctor with the hair slides. You convinced her I was pining, just so she’d buy more cupcakes.  Suit-san is -”

Tooru pounced. “Did I mention he was wearing a suit? It’s so sweet you’re giving him nicknames already, Koushi,” he said and laughed.  “Now, why don’t you duck back into the shop, check on our useless apprentice, and see if you can tempt Shoulders inside for a change?”

Suga scowled. “How do you know he’s there? I didn’t say a word, and you can’t see the window from in here.”

“Because,” Tooru drawled, “you’ve gone a very pretty shade of pink, even though we don’t have the ovens on. And –” he plucked his apron string, drawing him close, before settling his hands on the dip of Suga’s hips, “you’ve just changed into this, which is pale blue and highly impractical when setting out the tables, because you know it suits you.”

“Get off me,” Suga laughed, and slapped Tooru away.

“I wouldn’t have bought it for you otherwise,” Tooru said archly. He turned back to his work, eyes focused on the words on the page, and Suga thought he’d got away with it until he continued without looking up, “Remember to smile. It works on almost everyone, Koushi.”

_Git!_

Suga tied his apron tight at the back, then wound the strings and retied them at the front. He wondered about a bow, or whether to leave each end hanging. Or to tie at the side. Would that look better?  Would Suit-san actually notice?

Why am I bothered?  He’s probably a boring accountant or maybe a quantity surveyor on business to redevelop the block, he thought, and moodily kicked the door open. That would explain why he’s hanging around outside and hasn’t been in a single shop.  Behind him, he heard Tooru snort, and he scowled even harder, scowled so much that even their grumpy apprentice was startled and dropped a pack of chocolate chips on the floor.

“Sorry, Suga-san,” he said, immediately dropping to the floor to pick them up.

“Dustpan and brush, Kageyama-kun,” Suga replied. “And after you’ve thrown them away, remember to wash your hands.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Accidents happen,” Suga said vaguely, and twisted around so he could peer over the counter. The right hand corner of his mouth jerked upwards, an instinctive response because across the road, still standing by the lamp post, not leaning on it, not resting or reading a paper was the man – Suit-san.

***

Daichi didn’t know how long he’d been stood on the pavement. He thought maybe a minute, or two, had passed since he stopped, but then he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he had to stay here and wait. For that glimpse. For that moment.

And then he could go about his business, trudge to the office and get through his day.

It had started by accident – literally – because he’d been driving from work the previous week, when a motorbike had cut across him. He’d had to brake suddenly, and the car behind, with no warning, had rear-ended him.  So, with his car in the garage, flinging the costs at the insurance company, Daichi had been forced into public transport for the first time in ages. He liked driving, despite the traffic, because he could be alone, listen to music out loud, and sing along without anyone complaining. Travelling on the train or bus wound him up, because there was nowhere to sit, or if there was, he didn’t like the look of the seats, never knowing if some kid or tourist had stuck their gum on the cushion.

And people were so loud, or rather their music players were, sending out tinny sounds to irritate his eardrums and not the rock he liked to pound along to when by himself.

So, a week ago, when his car had been towed, and he hadn’t sorted out a rental in time, Daichi had taken the train and had been so irritated by businessmen reading their overlarge papers, and the stiletto heeled woman who’d skewered his foot in her rush to get a seat, that he’d made a hasty exit, two stops before he needed to get off. And walked to his office.

Or rather, he’d limped because his foot had hurt, and halfway there he’d had to stop at the chemist to buy plasters because he could see blood seeping through his dark grey sock. As he’d hobbled out, he’d taken a few extra seconds to adjust his shoe and it was then it had happened.

The sun had appeared from behind a cloud, dappling the street in yellow, and in particular highlighting the pale green trellised archway of the small bakery, Sugoi Patisserie, on the other side of the road. Even though it was a warm looking place, and far more endearing than the westernised coffee houses currently overpopulating the city, Daichi wouldn’t have spared it a second thought but for one thing.

The waiter, or owner, or whatever he was, setting out the tables and chairs. And maybe Daichi wouldn’t have noticed him at all except the sun, at that precise moment, lilted a ray cafe-wards, which settled itself halo like around the waiter or owner’s hair.

 _Quicksilver in the light,_ he’d thought at the time and stopped fiddling with his shoe, so utterly entranced.

The waiter-cum-owner-cum-angel-in-human-form, had been joined by a taller guy, one who was probably younger, mainly because it was clear to Daichi, that the boy deferred to the angel.  Not that he pulled rank, not like the third member of the trio who joined them and handed over a stack of menus with an imperious nod at the junior.

It was the angel’s silver hair that had stopped Daichi in his tracks, but it was the interplay between the three workers, that kept him watching. Not so much the black haired boy, but the other pair, especially when the angel started to laugh and his companion placed one hand on his waist.

_Oh!_

The touch had been momentary, not lingering, but as much as Daichi tried to analyse it, he couldn’t tell what the situation was between them. Family? Friends? Business partners? Lovers?

_Lovers ..._

The other two had gone back inside, leaving only _him_. And as he’d adjusted the shop awning, he’d turned his head and finally saw Daichi.

And smiled.

It was unfair, Daichi remembered thinking at the time, that someone already endowed with such delicious prettiness should also be in possession of a dazzling smile.  It was a punch to the chest. Winded and reeling, he stumbled then tripped on his shoelace, only able to right himself by judicious use of grabbing the lamppost.

“Are you all right?” the man called from across the road.

Too tongue-tied to even stutter a response, Daichi had raised his hand, then fled.

The following day the train had been quieter, no businesswoman had skewered him with her shoe and he’d fully intended to get out at his correct stop. Then hadn’t.  He’d taken the same route again, getting out before he had to, walking up the small street and waiting for the sun to appear.

It had been the same three players setting out the tables, but this time the taller of the trio, the one with brown hair that appeared to fall in perfect waves, was organising the chairs, whilst the scowling waiter (or whatever he was) laid out small centrepieces.  They seemed to be ignoring each other, at least no conversation had passed between them until the other guy (the blond, the shorter one, the one with the sunbeam for a smile) _Angel-san,_ Daichi named him, appeared carrying a chalk board.

And then, after a word from him and a sing-song laugh, the other two softened their features. Perfect Hair (so perfect that Daichi, whose hair unless he kept it short, looked like an unruly porcupine, wanted to punch him on sight) leant across and assisted Angel-san with the sign. Their hands touched. Daichi stared closer. And it wasn’t until Angel-san pulled away, that he realised he’d held his breath.

He walked away, relieved although he wasn’t sure why, because what did he care if Angel-san and Perfect Hair were or weren’t an item?

And then the hunch returned to his shoulders. Not holding hands all the time didn’t mean they weren’t together.

_I’ll have to go back._

***

“Suga-san?”

“Hmm?” Suga dragged his eyes away from the window and directed his gaze to Kageyama.

“I have the supplies merchants on the phone. There’s a van in the street next to ours and they want to know if he can do the delivery now rather than tomorrow.”

“Uh ... yes, no problem.” He felt his lips twitch, and reaching out to Kageyama, he pulled on his arm as their junior started walking to the door. “No, it’s fine, I’ll help him. Why don’t you ... um ... practise your icing technique? Or ... uh ... you could mix the first batch of cupcakes.”

“My recipe?”

“Why not?”

“Because Oikawa-san has said I’m not ready.”

“Leave him to me. We’re joint owners of Sugoi, and I’m saying you can.” Hearing the van draw up, Suga raced to the door, swerving through the tables, making sure he was visible to anyone that might possibly-  maybe -could still be - watching.

The driver got out; it wasn’t their usual one, but the regional manager, Iwaizumi. He slammed the door hard, gave Suga a cursory nod then unlocked the back of the van.

“He in?”

“Mmm, he’s out the back. Do you want a word?”

Running his hand through his thick black spiky hair (a bog brush, Tooru called it) Hajime shook his head. “I don’t have time for another row. I’m a driver down and need to crack on. I’ll give you a hand unloading and then go.”

Taking in Hajime, noting the black circles under his eyes and the even more rumpled than usual jacket, Suga pulled his lapel straight, and smoothed his hair a little. “He’s in a good mood, actually,” Suga replied. “So, if you do want to speak to him...”

He was tempted, Suga could tell, but still prevaricating. “I _should_ help you. The flour bags are heavy.”

“I’m stronger than I look. Just pop your head around the door. It will honestly be doing me a favour.”

“Favour?  How?”

With a side glance across the road, seeing Suit-san was still loitering, Suga grinned and shoved Hajime towards the door. “No reason.”

And then he stopped. What was his actual plan? Play the weakling and ask for help? Why would Suit-san help? He’d mess up his clothes for one thing, and from the look of the suit, it was expensive. No, he’d lug the sacks himself, impress Suit-san with his muscles and – Hold on!

 _Shit, he’s moving!_ Letting out a cry, he flung open the door, hoping the movement would cause him to hesitate. It worked, Suit-san faltered, and Suga turned his head, ready to wave, or smile reassuringly as he heaved a bag out of the van.

He reached for the sack of flour. Hell, it was larger than he’d thought. Tooru must have ordered more than usual. He did need help, but no, he couldn’t exactly ask Suit-san. With straining arms, he heaved it out the van, hugging it to his chest and torso and cursing the fact that he didn’t look smooth and strong at all, but bent over and haggard like a ... like a ... an old hag.

“Dammit!” he cursed under his breath, already feeling the sweat form on his brow.  “I must look like a fricking weakling. And Hajime will come out in a bit, roll up his sleeves and carry this inside one handed.”

He lugged it to the side of the van, propping it against the wheel, so he could tackle it later, then turned back to the van.  Good, there was the icing sugar, true it was in a smaller sack, but it was still reasonably impressive. He could carry that; he just needed to get a better hold. He leant inside, grabbed the sack, which was wedged between two boxes, and tugged.

“Can I help at all?” a low rumbling rowl of a voice offered.

“Wh-WHAT?!” He jerked around, and found himself staring into a pair of deep brown eyes.

Now beyond startled, Suga staggered backwards, the sack still in his arms, because although this was what he’d hoped would happen, actually seeing Suit-san close up (and looking even sexier than he was sure was legal) was causing his pulse to pound and blood to thrum in his veins. He tried to speak, to say a thank you and smile sweetly (Tooru had told him once that his smile was a ‘weapon of mass seduction’), but then catastrophe hit because his heel skidded on a stone, and sent him flying. Instinctively, he clutched the sack, and twisted to brace himself for a fall. But before he hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around him. Strong arms clad in expensive cloth that saved Suga from landing directly on the pavement, but not Suit-san, who fell backwards, pulling Suga with him.

And the sack of icing sugar, which wasn’t so much of a sack made from sturdy hessian as a bag. A plastic bag.

Which burst when the pair of them hit the ground, sending clouds of white puffing into the air.

“Oh my GODS!  Are you okay?” Suga cried as he tried to stand, but he was still unsteady, and stumbled again, landing directly on top of man now sprawled on the ground.

“Umff.” Suit-san puffed out his lips, his white lips, white because they were covered in icing sugar as was the rest of his face, and his hair, and his neck and his suited shoulders. In fact, there was very little of the upper part of his body that wasn’t blanketed in powder. He stuck out his tongue, licking until they showed dark red again, then laughed nervously. “I –I think so. I’ve ... um ... never been bombarded with icing sugar before.” He licked again. “It is just icing sugar, isn’t it?”

“Just icing sugar,” Suga assured him, and suddenly realising he was still lying on the man’s chest, he wriggled free. (Not that he objected. It wasn’t everyday he was close to a chest that broad, but Suit-san might have other ideas.)

Tentatively, Suit-san sat up and started to cough. He rubbed his back and blinked a little more of the icing sugar out of his eyes.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m used to landing on my ar...uh ...backside,” he said, and then grinned up at Suga. “I fall well.”

Pretending he understood exactly what the man meant, Suga nodded and then held out his hand. “You must come inside and clean up. Have a cup of coffee or something. On the house, naturally.”

“Um ... I ...” Suit-san pulled at his suit sleeve and checked his watch. “Uh ... okay. I guess I can be _little_ late.” He smiled again. “I’m Sawa-“

But before he could get the words out, a glowering figure stormed out of the cafe.

“I APOLOGISED, ASSIKWAWA, WHAT THE HELL ELSE DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU CAN DO WITH YOUR APOLOGY, IWA-CHAN!” screeched Tooru.

“THE ONLY THING I’LL BE STICKING THERE IS –“

“HAJIME!” Suga implored. “ _Please,_ we ... um ... have company.”

“What? Wha-  Holy Moroly.” Hajime stopped his yelling and twisted around, taking in the sight of two ghostly figures in front of him. “What the fuck happened here?” He gritted his teeth. “I told you not to touch that flour sack, you dumbass. It’s heavy and you –“

“It was the icing sugar,” Suga interrupted. “I tripped and ... um ... this rather chivalrous _passerby,”_ he emphasized, hoping Hajime would ease up on the language because it could well be a future customer, “was caught in the sugar bomb.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Hajime muttered.

“Oh my cupcakes, what have you done to the poor man, Koushi?” Tooru called. He waltzed out the door, deliberately ignoring Hajime, and bent over Suit-san, extending his arm. “You really must come inside so we can make amends.”

“Uh ... yeah ... I was about-“

But giving him no time to reply, Tooru pulled him to his feet, made a show of brushing the icing sugar off his chest (just in front of Hajime) and then propelled him towards the shop.

“How much do we owe you for the icing sugar?” Suga asked quietly.

“I’ll put it down to an accident,” Hajime muttered. He sighed, and in that moment, his brows uncreased and he looked more resigned than angry. “I did try, you know.”

“Mmm, I know you did,” Suga said. He squeezed him on the arm, then apologised when he realised he’d left an icing sugar handprint on the sleeve of Hajime’s jumper, and started to pat it off. “Tooru’s ... um ...”

“A fuckwit.”

“I know,” Suga replied, and pressed his lips together, sucking some sugar into his mouth. “He’s _your_ fuckwit, though.”

With a hint of a chuckle, Hajime leant forwards, smoothed his thumb across Suga’s cheek, then licked at the powder. “You, Sugawara Koushi, are _too_ sweet. He doesn’t deserve you. He never did.”

“Ah, well, he has us both now,” Suga breezed and rubbed at his hair, shaking what was left of the sugar into the air. Through the shop window, he watched Tooru, wielding a large clothes brush, approach a rather bemused and still snow-white Suit-san.  “I’ll ... um ... I’ll take that sack of flour in.”

“Nope. I’ll do it.” Hajime bent down. “Don’t look at me like that. I won’t even look at him, let alone speak.”

Picking up a second bag of icing sugar, more chocolate chips and a large tin of cocoa, Suga followed him inside. True to his word, Hajime dumped the bag by the counter, then after a nod to Kageyama, and blithely ignoring Tooru, he stormed out of the shop.

“Loquacious as ever,” Tooru remarked drily, then took a step back. “I’m afraid brushing alone isn’t going to help, Shoulde- uh – Sorry, what is your name?”

“Sawamura,” Suit-san replied, smiling tightly as he tried to edge away from Tooru. “And it doesn’t matter. I can take it to the cleaners.”

“But that doesn’t help now,” Tooru mused, and renewed his brushing. “And you do need to sort out your face, or Tokyo will think aliens have landed.” He lowered his voice and bent towards him. “They’re not all green, you know.”

“What?” Suit-san, or rather Sawamura-san as Suga had just learned, looked even more confused now, his eyes flitting from Tooru and then to Suga.

“Aliens,” Tooru continued, and pulled him closer. “Although may...be...”

Catching a beseeching look in Sawamura’s eyes, followed by a faint hint of terror, Suga intervened. “There’s a restroom over there, or if you’d rather, then you can use the bathroom in the upstairs flat. Just hand me the jacket.”

“Uh ... what?”

“Your jacket.” Suga smiled, then realising he probably looked as bad as Sawamura, and if he held the jacket he’d make it worse, he gestured to Kageyama. “Our assistant can take the jacket to the cleaners for you. There’s one over the road, and ... um ... I’ll pay, of course.”

“No, it’s really not that impor-OH!”  He stopped speaking, and wondering why, Suga followed his gaze to see him staring at a silver platter they used to stack cupcakes on, that was propped against the wall.

Sawamura’s mouth twitched at his reflection. “I don’t know about aliens, but I do look like some kind of ghost, don’t I?”

“Ghost?”  Tooru stared at him then shook his head. “Use our bathroom, Sawamura-san. Tobio, the jacket. Take the money from the till and ask for the express service. You can have a coffee while you wait, or ... a shower.”

“No. I really can’t wait around,” Sawamura said and turned to Suga, giving him a hesitant bow.  “I am very sorry.”

“Uh ... um ... uh ...” Suga twittered, and hopped from one foot to the other. “What for?”

“I think I startled you out there, didn’t I?”

“Oh... a little bit, perhaps but it really was kind of you to offer to help.” He tried a little smile, then seeing Tooru, over Sawamura’s shoulder mouth _‘Go on’_ , he beamed. “You should wash your face, at least, and um, if you can’t wait for the jacket, then we could always keep it here for you.”

“Come back, you mean?”

“Or ... uh ... I could bring it to you?”

“No, I ... um ... yeah, I’ll come back. Tomorrow?”

Suga nodded – several times, so many times that he felt lightheaded – then hearing Tooru snort stopped immediately. “Yes, we’ll be here. But ... um ... you really should wash your face before you go. Can’t have Tokyo thinking the apocalypse has begun.”

“ALIENS!” Tooru exclaimed.

Sighing, Suga touched Sawamura’s arm, pulling him away from Tooru, who might start ranting about UFO’s if he was given an audience – especially a new audience. “I’ll show you upstairs.”

 

Sawamura Suit-san took around ten minutes to get clean, and when he appeared back in the shop, his hair a little damp and his face back to its normal colour (apart from a slight redness that looked as if he’d scrubbed too hard with the towel) he bowed, but studiously avoided eye contact.

“Don’t worry about the jacket,” he said, his voice wan. “I’ll ... take it in myself.”

“Oh ... um, Kageyama-kun’s already gone. He won’t be back for at least fifteen minutes,” Suga replied, and willed himself not to blush. Although as he hadn’t cleaned himself up yet, Sawamura might not catch him out in the lie. “Probably longer as he’s gone on some errands as well, hasn’t he, Tooru?”

“What?” Tooru queried, a sly sort of smile on his lips and then he nodded. “Oh, Tobio? Yes, he’ll be ages. Come back tomorrow, Sawamura-san. Or ... this evening? If you prefer.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t possibly intrude. You’ll be closed by the time I’ll be heading back this way, and I’d hate to disturb you,” Sawamura said.

 _A little stiffly,_ Suga thought.

“We’ll be open,” he replied, and patted his head, causing another cloud of sugar to cascade onto his shoulders. “I’m teaching a cake decorating class after we close, so please don’t worry about disturbing me.”

“Ah ... uh ...” Sawamura looked as if he were about to object to think of something else that would prevent him coming back, but just then, Suga sneezed, and instead of looking bootfaced, the right hand corner of Sawamura’s mouth twitched into a lopsided smile.  “I can be here about eight. Is that okay?”

“Perfect. They’ll just be leaving. I’ll be ... I mean ... I’ll have your jacket waiting for you,” Suga replied, and then, after inclining his head, he smiled again. “I’m Sugawara Koushi, by the way.”

He took a breath, appearing to deliberate. “Sawamura Daichi,” he said at last, and taking a step back, he bowed. “I’ll ... um ... see you both later.” Then he chuckled, the effect lightening his face “You ... uh ... might want to clean up yourself, Sugawara-san. Your clients are going to think you’re the cake.”

“Certainly worth decorating,” Tooru murmured. “Wouldn’t you say –OW!”

Removing his heel from Tooru’s toes, Suga bustled forwards and opened the door for Sawamura, praying he hadn’t heard that last remark. “I’ll see you at eight then, Sawamura-san. And ... um ... thank you, again.”

It was as Sawamura rounded the corner and Suga turned away from the window that he felt a pair of arms around him.

“Someone’s eensy- weensy crush just got a whole lot bigger, didn’t it, Koushi?” Tooru whispered and rested his chin on Suga’s shoulder.

“Nonsense,” he replied, and tried to pull away, but Tooru’s hold tightened a little, and he heard him swallow.

“If I make sure I’m out at eight, may I stay over again?” he asked as he slumped over him.

Sighing, Suga turned around, faced Tooru and ruffled his hair. “You’re an idiot,” he said. “What you should be doing is making up with Hajime, not avoiding him.”

Staring mutinously at him, Tooru looked as if he were about to snap out a reply, but then he bent forwards, and just as Hajime had done, he wiped away some of the icing sugar from Suga’s face. “Would be so much easier if I were still with you, Koushi.”

“Easier?” Suga shook his head. “I doubt that. It would complicate everything here, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Tooru said. He wrinkled his nose, letting his mouth droop petulantly then dropped a kiss on Suga’s temple. “You’re still so very distracting. Maybe we could ...” His hands moved to down Suga’s body, resting on his hips.

“No.” Suga disengaged himself and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not right for you, Tooru. And you know you don’t mean it. Now, why don’t you make a phone call? To Hajime and get _him_ to distract you.”

But as he stepped away, Tooru reached for him again, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You were _never_ wrong for me, Koushi. I, however, was an idiot.”

 

 

* * *

[khsvc ](http://khsvc.gq/)on tumblr sent me this [art](https://puu.sh/nvije/24310f24aa.png) for the cafe shop front.  It's just how I envisaged the sign so - THANK YOU!  


	2. Cupcakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Suga decides to dance around his bathroom, and Daichi becomes a little more hands on than he expected.

Before you start Chapter 2, why not check out this wonderful [fanart](http://crollalanzaa.tumblr.com/post/135004718146/that-will-be-neij-for-you-icing-sugar-accident) drawn by that-will-be-neij-for-you.  Brilliant, yes?

* * *

 

The frisson of excitement Suga had felt when Sawamura Daichi had agreed to drop by for his jacket, had not abated throughout the day. He desperately tried to quell the anticipation, especially as Sawamura had at first been so reluctant to come back, but the picture of his lopsided smile when he’d agreed, had become imprinted on Suga’s mind.

 _I’m hopeless,_ he thought. _He’s just a nice man and I’ll probably not see him again, so there’s really no point in-_

“Are they for your class tonight, Suga-san?” Kageyama asked. He sounded dubious, looking at the page in the recipe book open in front of Suga.

“Mmm, you can’t really go wrong with cupcakes,” Suga replied, then laughed when Kageyama’s frown deepened. “I know they’re probably boring to you, but the ladies who come here think they’re pretty, and it’s reasonably easy to teach the piping techniques.”

“Do you need any assistance? I could mix a batch of cakes for you.”

“No, I was about to start that myself.” He smiled at Kageyama, hoping their apprentice didn’t feel slighted, adding, “Your cupcakes today were very good, Kageyama-kun. And the frosting recipe.” Licking his lips, he winked. “Genius, you know, adding the dried raspberry pieces. They have a very intense flavour.”

“Thank you. I-if there’s any advice,” Kageyama stuttered. “Then I would be very grateful.”

“Um...” Suga tried not to look surprised but Kageyama asking him for advice was something he never failed to be taken aback by. He pondered a little. “The only thing is maybe ...”

“Yes.”  He didn’t sound put out with the criticism, but genuinely interested.

“Maybe add only half the raspberries to the mixture, then sprinkle some on top. That way, although you get a paler colour, you also –“

“The colour will leech out,” Kageyama finished. His eyes lit up, the way they always did when he was thinking about a new possibility. “There’d be streaks in the frosting.”

“Mmm, could be beautiful,” Suga whispered.

“May I make some-”

“No, not now,” Suga interrupted firmly, knowing Kageyama would start and not leave until he’d discovered perfection. “It’s the end of the day. And I need to prepare for class. Go home, Kageyama-kun, and practise there. Or how about you get some sleep for a change?”

“Yes. Yes, I will!” Kageyama bowed again and his intense expression returned.

 Suga smiled inwardly because he knew very well that Kageyama meant every word of it, but as soon as he got home, he’d be searching through cookery books, or surfing online in order to add to his repertoire.  He was undoubtedly a talented baker with an eye for the extraordinary and a flair for experimentation. He also worked harder than anyone Suga knew.

Except for Tooru.

At that moment, as if he’d realised, Tooru sauntered down the stairs of the flat and stood watching them both.

“Going home already, Tobio-chan,” he mocked. “I thought you’d be staying behind to practise some more of your ‘creations’.”

“I told him to go, Tooru,” Suga said mildly, but he fixed Tooru with what he hoped was a steely, ‘do not go there, Tooru’ type of look.  “Are you leaving now?”

“Mmm, thought I’d grab an early dinner at Morito’s, unless you want me for anything.”

“No, got it covered, thanks,” Suga replied, and suppressed the smile because  Morito’s  was a five minute walk away from Hajime’s office.

“You are not to lift that sack of flour,” Tooru was saying. “I can do that before I leave.”

“It’s done,” Suga said, raising his hand. “Go and enjoy yourself... and ... um ... maybe you should ... uh ... give _someone_ a call.”

“If you mean Iwaizumi, then come right out and say it,” Tooru declared frostily. He glared at Kageyama who appeared oblivious untying his apron as he prepared to leave. “There should be no secrets at Sugoi’s, Tobio-chan”

“What?  I don’t-” Kageyama started to reply.

“Tooru, stop it,” Suga ordered, then turned to Kageyama. “Go home before this escalates. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Needing no further prompting, Kageyama stalked out of the shop, not slamming the door behind him, but it was clear from the set of his shoulders how infuriated he was. Tooru watched him leave, an expression of equal fury on his face, then rounded on Suga.

“You _always_ take his side.”

“Because it shouldn’t be about sides, Tooru,” Suga snapped. “Kageyama cooks on instinct, his ideas appear from nowhere. I don’t think that he’s deliberately withholding anything from us; it’s just that he needs help to hone that, and then I think, he’ll be able to share.” He paused and touched Tooru’s arm. “Besides you’re not as forthcoming as you could be with him, either.”

Tooru jerked away from his touch. “So teach him everything I know so one day he can leave and set up on his own?”

“That might not happen. We have no idea-”

“Forget it. I don’t want to listen to this,” Tooru retorted. “I’m going out. I will NOT be calling Iwaizumi, so expect me back. Oh, don’t worry I wouldn’t dream of spoiling your little _assignation._ ”  Pausing, only for breath, Tooru leant across and with his hand tilted Suga’s face up to his. “Word of advice - try not to blush, Koushi, that’s getting tired.”

“You asswipe!” Suga yelled, and threw the closest thing to hand, a spatula at Tooru. It bounced off his head, he caught it and threw it back with precision, straight into the sink.

“You need to wash that before your ‘Friday Fancies’ turn up.”

“Shame it wasn’t a knife!” Suga yelled after him, but Tooru had gone, Suga thinking up the response far too late for impact.

He gritted his teeth and reached for a wooden spoon and a bowl. The electric mixer was ready on the table, but such was his frustration with Tooru, Kageyama and Hajime, he decided to work by hand. It would also allow him less time to think about Sawamura-san, and whether he could persuade him to stay for a while after he’d picked up the suit jacket.

 

Suga’s ‘Friday Fancies’ as Tooru called them, were a garrulous and appreciative group of ladies. There were six of them, all friends, unfailingly cheerful and all of them punctual. Older than most of the other women who turned up to his classes, the only downside was their incorrigible curiosity about Suga’s love life. Never a session passed without one or two of them offering to introduce their granddaughters to him. Whether they were really that obtuse, or fishing because Suga had revealed nothing about his sexuality or relationship status, he didn’t know, but he took it all in good part, and laughed lightly at their matchmaking attempts. Usually. Today he felt snappish, and instead of replying that he was already in love with the six ladies in front of him, he instead swiped that he was far too busy for romance.

“But you have so much to offer, Suga-chan,” Kimi Fujuiko (the formidable leader of the sextet) reproved. “How many girls can resist a man who not only cooks, but takes such care to make things beautiful?”

 _Most of them,_ he almost retorted but kept his thoughts to himself, instead changing the subject as he tied pale pink striped ribbons around their cake boxes.

“Have a lovely evening and weekend, ladies,” he called after them, belatedly remembering to smile and bow.

As one, they sighed at him, giggled, then waved their goodbyes. And he felt guilty inside for not playing along with their romantic dreams that evening, but then again, he had some dreams of his own.

Sawamura’s suit jacket was upstairs in the flat. He’d debated a while (not that long though) about whether to bring it down to the shop. There were excellent reasons why it should stay upstairs, not least because in the cake shop, it would only get messy again, but he knew the main reason was that Sawamura might then be persuaded to join him for coffee, or tea, or ... wine, maybe?

 _Is he a wine drinking person?_ he wondered. _Should I have gone out and  bought beer? Does it look really presumptuous to offer, or just friendly?_

_Oh hell, it DOES. And desperate._

_I know nothing about him at all. He could be a creep. A psycho killer. Or ... what if he is an accountant and is really boring?_

“Okay, I’ll bring the jacket downstairs, and if he isn’t an axe murderer, or as dull as ditchwater, then I’ll offer him coffee. Yes, much better plan.”

Resolved, he wiped down the tabletop, folded up his apron, then bound towards the stairs, ready to freshen up and fetch the jacket. 

He was singing when it happened. Singing in his bathroom as he splashed water on his face, and wiggling his hips a little in time to the song.

_‘Click’_

“AGHH AGHH AGHH ... no, no NOOOOO!” Suga wept as the unmistakeable sound and then sudden pain ricocheted up his spine. He leant against the sink, hoping against hope that this would pass, but when the pain intensified, he knew from experience that he wasn’t going to be springing down the stairs anytime soon.

“Why now?” he whimpered, and then clenching his jaw, he steeled himself to edge away from the sink, and to his phone which was somewhere on the floor under his shirt.  He couldn’t bend, but poked at it with his foot, pressing the buttons with his toes.

 “Come on. Last number redial, has got to be ... Oh hell, no, that was Mom, and she can’t get here.”  He stretched and winced, trying to navigate his way through his contacts list, lingering on the doctor’s number, before scrolling past to get to Tooru.

 _No, no, not a good idea_ , he thought, then tried another number, someone else he had to call frequently, and prayed he was around.

“Yo, Suga, if this is about Oikawa, then I’m not -”

“Hajime,” he implored. “Please, listen.”

“I can’t hear you, Suga. Speak up.”

“MY BACK!” he yelled, and then cried out as the exertion caused more spasms to rip through him. “Please, Hajime!”

“Your back?  Shit, where are you?”

“IN THE FLAT!”

“On my way, don’t move.”

He whimpered pathetically – there was no way he could move, unless he collapsed, and if he collapsed, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up at all.

The clock in the bathroom had ticked towards the quarter to the hour before Hajime arrived. Suga heard the screech of tyres, the front door unlock, and then the welcome pounding of footsteps up the stairs.

“SUGA!”

“Bathroom,” he cried faintly, and clung harder to the sink.

“Right, okay. I got you.” Hajime’s arms enveloped him, just when he thought he couldn’t stand for much longer. “What do you need? Ambulance? Can you make it to the car?”

“No,” he rasped. “I don’t want to go to hospital. Just lower me to the floor. It’s gone into spasm and will pass, but I need your help.”

 

Daichi didn’t exactly know why he’d agreed to return for his jacket when he could easily have paid for a courier to pick it up. In fact, as soon as he got to the office, that was what he intended to do, and had even got as far as dialling the number to arrange pick up. Then, telling himself it would be rude, he made up his mind to return, even if he was sure there was no real point.

Two toothbrushes in the bathroom.

And Perfect Hair-san’s perfect hairbrush and perfect aftershave by the sink. He knew it was his aftershave because he’d smelt it on him, even though he’d been covered in icing sugar.

Not like Angel-san... or rather Sugawara Koushi. And despite his misgivings and a desperate attempt not to dwell on him (and that feeling of bliss when he radiated that smile), he couldn’t help but feel light and warm and ...

Sugawara Koushi – even the name was adorable.

Maybe they weren’t together. Maybe they both wore the same aftershave, or Perfect Hair had bought it for him because he assumed everyone should smell like an over-scented maiden aunt.

Sugawara hadn’t, he remembered. He’d smelt of icing, and chocolate, and the fresh summer breeze rippling through his hair.

_Jeez, get a grip._

That other guy, the one with the muscly arms and a rumpled shirt, where did he fit in, apart from brawling in the street with Perfect Hair?

 _Did_ he fit? He’d been chatting to Sugawara, stroking the icing off his cheek with something akin to tenderness, quite different from his attitude towards Perfect Hair.

Not that Daichi blamed Muscle-san for that, he wanted to yell at Perfect hair too. And touch Sugawara’s face. 

_Was it a mole under his eye?_

“Sawamura-san?”

_Aw, hell, I really have to stop thinking about him. There’s work to get through._

“Sawamura-san? Are you all right?”

“Hmm?” Looking up from his blank screen, Daichi stared into a pair of large brown eyes set into the friendly freckled face of the boy who delivered the lunch orders. “Ah, Hinata-kun, can I help?”

“Uh...” He scratched his head, causing the catering cap he wore to come askew revealing his shock of red hair. Alarmed, because he’d been ordered to keep it on, Hinata set his cap straight, then bit his lip. “I ... have your lunch, Sawamura-san.”

“Prawn and chicken salad?”

He nodded. “And no mayo, just how you like it.”

“Thank you.” Reaching for his wallet, Daichi added in a few extra yen and implored him to keep it because Hinata’s unfailingly sunny nature always made him feel better about the world.

“Um...”

He looked up again, surprised Hinata hadn’t moved on. “Yes?”

“Um... just ... um ... good luck tomorrow, Sawamura-san,” he said.

“Thank you,” he muttered, then realising he sounded ungrateful, he stopped opening up his lunch and gave the boy a grin. “Are you going to watch, Hinata-kun?”

“Ah ... I’m working, so can’t.”  He smiled widely and leant across the desk, his eyes lit as if in a conspiracy. “But I’m going to have the television on in the back room, so I’ll make sure I have to do the stock taking, or something boring like that.”

“Good lad,” Daichi replied.

The rest of the day both crawled and flew past, and Daichi had no idea how that could happen, but it appeared time suddenly sped until it reached seven o’clock, and then slowed, every minute adding hours to his waiting. He was itching to leave the office, even if it were to discover Sugawara Koushi in a clinch with Perfect Hair (or maybe even Muscles-san) because at least if he picked up his jacket he could bring an end to this week-long infatuation with a Sugawara’s smile.

It was a little before eight when he got to the bakery, and he considered lurking around the outside, waiting for exactly eight (or did that look really anal?) or loitering for five minutes so he didn’t appear desperate or impatient, but when he arrived on the doorstep, the first thing he saw was that the shop was empty. (He’d kind of assumed Sugawara would be waiting for him. Pictured it even, with Suga still wearing his pale blue apron, and maybe a small smear of icing sugar still on his forehead – Jeez, GET A GRIP!)

 _Maybe he’s out the back. I’ll tap and wait._ But when he tapped, the door creaked open, sounding the small bell above it.

“Hello,” he called out. “It’s Sawamura. I’ve come for my jacket.”

Resounding silence (apart from the bell, which was still tinkling a little as the door jiggled in the breeze). He closed the door, stepped warily into the shop and tried again.

“Sugawara-san?” 

No answer.  He tried to remember the other guy’s name, feeling sure he must have introduced himself ( _Perfect Hair is the type that would do that_ , Daichi thought. _He probably talks about himself in the third person, too._ ) But he couldn’t bring it to mind – Ass-something, perhaps. Daichi’s eyes flicked around the shop, and he took a purposeful stride towards the counter. It was then he noticed the door to the flat above was open, and heard something that sounded a little like a cry float down the stairs.

 _Shit! What if he’s being robbed?_   That door was unlocked, open even. And the tills ... no ... if he’s cashed up then he probably keeps the money upstairs. 

Without thinking (really he should have called the police) Daichi grabbed the nearest thing to hand (a spatula – no, that was dumb) then exchanged it for a much larger and heavier marble rolling pin. Edging towards the stairs, checking behind as well as in front, he pressed himself against the wall, and crept to the top.

“Aghh!  No. Aghh, that HURTS!”

 _Was_ that Sugawara? He’d only heard his voice for about five minutes so couldn’t be sure, but someone was definitely in trouble.

Hell!

“What about this?”  a slightly panicked but deeper voice. Not Perfect Hair, Daichi would have recognised him as he hadn’t stopped talking when he’d been brushing his clothes.

“Oh, yes. There. Harder. Yeah  HARDER. That’s it. That’s good. Ahh – NO! Stop, stop!”

“Oh, Jeez and fuck it’s some kind of sex game. And they want me to be a part of it? Forget the fricking jacket,” Daichi  yelped, and scuddered back to the stairs. But Fate was not (or maybe it was) on his side because, in his eagerness to get away, he dropped the rolling pin.

“What’s that?” the deeper voiced man demanded.

“Oh ... ahhh,” this voice was breathy, and clearly was Sugawara. “It must be ... Sawamura-san, is that you?”

“Who?”

“The guy I tipped icing sugar over this morning.” Daichi heard him explain. “Hajime, go and see if it’s him, will you? He’s here to pick .... up ... a jacket.”

Okay, he couldn’t very well escape now, especially as Hajime – whoever he was – had already poked his head round the bathroom door.

Ah, it’s Muscles-san!  Daichi tried a smile, but thought it probably looked weird because he was still really concerned as to just what he’d interrupted, and the fact that Sugawara was sending someone else to greet him, smacked of ... _oh god I don’t know_. _Is Muscles –san his pimp, or is he tied up somewhere?_  Daichi took a breath, then exhaled with something like relief, because he realised one thing. Hajime Muscles-san was fully clothed.

“Hi,” he said, feeling stupid.

“Um... Oh ...” Hajime-Muscles-san stared at him, slightly open-mouthed, then shook his head. “Uh, Suga says you’re here for ... a jacket? S-sorry, I ... um ...” He blinked several times. “You _are_ Sawamura Daichi, aren’t you?”

“I was the last time I looked,” Daichi replied mildly. “Is ... um ... is everything all right?”

“Yeah ... yeah ... it’s ... uh ... yeah...” Hajime’s voice trailed off, his jaw still slack as he gaped at him.

“APART FROM THE FACT THAT I’M LYING ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR UNABLE TO MOVE EVERYTHING’S PEACHY!” Sugawara yelled.

Muscles-san flinched. “Oh ... yeah ... that. Sorry, Suga.”  Turning to Daichi, he gestured for him to follow. “Um, Suga’s done his back in. It kind of went. I dunno, I wasn’t here, but he was probably doing something dumb like lifting _huge sacks of flour_.”

“IN THE BATHROOM? No, I was washing my hands, that’s all.”

They were at the bathroom door now, and although Daichi was pretty sure Sugawara hadn’t intended to greet him like this and would probably not welcome the intrusion, he still stepped over the threshold. And tried, very hard – excruciatingly hard – not to stare at the semi clothed prostrate form of Sugawara on the floor.

“Hi,” he squeaked, going an adorable shade of pink.

“Hi,” Daichi muttered, and did a kind of squint thing, just so it didn’t look as if he were eyeing him up. (And he wasn’t, but he couldn’t help noticing that Suga’s beauty marks weren’t confined to the face.)

“I ... um ... have a bad back. Sorry.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Daichi asked, stepping closer.

“Oh, an accident a few years ago,” Suga said, trying to sound casual, but wincing as he spoke. “It ... ow ... goes into spasm sometimes. I’ll be fine in a while.”

“Right ...” And although now would have been the best time to leave because no one could blame him for taking his jacket and going home, Daichi crouched down next to him.

“I have some experience with injuries, Sugawara-san.  I might be able to help.”

“Uh ... no... _no_. I’m fi-”

“YES!  Of course you do!” Hajime-Muscles-san shouted. “Suga, if you won’t let me call a doctor, then let him take a look. It’s got to be better than my ham-fisted attempts.”

“Uh ...” A slight look of panic flared in Sugawara’s eyes, but once he locked looks with Hajime, Daichi saw his reservations crumble. “Okay, if you think you can help. You can hardly make it worse.”

 

 

Suga wasn’t entirely sure why he’d agreed to let Sawamura Suit-san take a look at his back. Not that he could exactly stop him as he was incapable of moving without screeching like a banshee at that moment. And quite why Hajime was so eager to let a perfect stranger loose on his body, Suga had no idea, but the fact was, even in his weakened state, Suga could see Hajime holding Sawamura in some kind of dopey awe.

His hands weren’t cold, or too hot, but warm – pleasantly so – the same temperature, he thought, as his own body because there was no sudden jolt inside when Sawamura placed his palms flat against his back.

“Where is it tight?” he asked.

 _Not where does it hurt?_ he thought, and relaxed a little, because Sawamura did sound a little more experienced than Hajime.

“Lower back, right hand side,” he muttered, “and a little bit to the middle.”

“Okay.” He pressed one palm down, not too heavy, then muttered, “I need you to move your _left_ knee up, I want you to increase the stretch so it loosens the muscle. Can you do that?”

“Uh...” He tried to move his leg, then felt a tap on the other one.

“The left leg, Suga, not the right,” Sawamura said softly.

And even though he was horribly embarrassed, and in pain, Suga couldn’t help smiling because Sawamura had forgotten himself and was calling him Suga.

“Heat will help,” he said. “Do you have anything?  Like a gel bag to put in the microwave.”

“Um ... no ... I have a hot water bottle somewhere, but ... uh...” He inhaled slowly as Sawamura increased the pressure in exactly the right place, and then began to wriggle his thumbs into the exact spot where the knot was at its worst. “That feels much better. I can probably mo -. ow –no I can’t.”

“Don’t move yet,” Sawamura muttered, and then he twisted his head over his shoulder.  “Uh ... could you find his hot water bottle?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll ... uh ... get it straight away,” Hajime replied, and sped out of the room.  Then he flew back in. “Um, Suga, where is it?”

“Probably the cupboard under the sink. There’s a big ... ow ... Oooh ... Oooh .... that’s better.”

“Suga?”

“Sorry.” Suga closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He was supposed to be telling Hajime something, but the feel of Sawamura’s palms and his thumbs as they sought to relieve his pain were having a disastrous effect on his memory. “Champagne bucket,” he said at last. “It’s in there.”

He heard someone chuckling – it had to be Sawamura as Hajime had dashed out again.

“Unusual place for a hot water bottle,” he said.

“Not if you fill your hot water bottle with champagne,” Suga replied.

“Then it’s perfect,” Sawamura said gravely. He moved his hands, now smoothing his fingers across Suga’s back. “Tell me, do you boil your champagne first?”

“No, that would be ridiculous,” Suga replied, humming a little, as Sawamura applied more pressure. “The bubbles wouldn’t last. Oooh, that is actually very good. I think I can move now.”  He adjusted his position, prepared to be stoic and not yelp even if it felt as if he was being stabbed, but to his surprise, he did feel a whole lot better.  Propping himself up on his elbow, he gave Sawamura a grin, before the horror set in.

He was on his bathroom floor wearing only a pair of boxers. Not only that, but they were boxers covered in cupcakes and cookies. Dumb boxer shorts that Tooru had given him for Christmas. 

“Um... maybe I should ... uh ...” he started, and reached across for his shirt. (His trousers, goddammit, weren’t in toe-poking distance.)

“Hot water bottle!” Hajime exclaimed as he scooted through the door.

Sawamura reached for it, and it seemed to Suga as if he were averting his eyes. “Umm, good,” he muttered, and handed the bottle to him. “If you can get to the bed ... uh ... or sofa, then maybe sit with that on the spot for a while. Also, do you have any medication?”

Suga nodded. Then, as Sawamura got to his feet, he fired a look at Hajime, a look that said very plainly ‘help-me-get-dressed’ but Hajime (curse him) was still gawping at Sawamura. Not that Suga blamed him, if he wasn’t so incapacitated, he’d have been staring at the brooding hunk of a man currently standing in his bathroom.

“Uh... hello,” he muttered. “Hajime!”

“Hmm?”

“Some help would be appreciated,” he hissed.

“Help with what?”  

Suga frowned. “Trousers.”

But just as Hajime cottoned on, and even started to comply, Suga’s phone rang. He groaned inwardly because as the pre-set tone chimed through the room, he knew exactly who it was.

“Why is _he_ calling?” Hajime demanded, and held the phone at half-arm’s length as if torn between dropping in the toilet or answering.

“I don’t know, but give it to me,” Suga replied, adding with authority, “He doesn’t need to know about this, _okay?_   Hi, Tooru!”

A miserable sigh reached his ears. “Can I come home?”

“Uhm, why?”

“Because Morito’s is boring. Has Shoulders-san turned up?”

“Yes, yes,” Suga’s eyes flicked upwards, noticing that Sawamura’s hand, which had been rifling through the rather full bathroom cabinet had stopped.

“I promise I won’t disturb you, but I really don’t want to stay here any longer.”

“Uh... look, I really think you should stay there. Honestly, Tooru, it’ll be much, much better if you don’t come back.  Who knows what might happen?”  He was babbling, he knew, and even though he’d turned his head away from the pair of them, he could also feel both Hajime’s and Sawamura’s eyes boring into him.

“Oooh, you sound _very_ flustered. I really think I should come back. Have to make sure –”

“NO!” Suga yelped, then let out a muffled gasp as the muscle spasm stabbed at him again.

“Why not?” Tooru asked suspiciously. He laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re naked already?”

He laughed weakly, tears starting in his eyes. “Nothing like that. I ... uh ... okay ... look, I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but Hajime’s on his way to Morito’s.”

“He is!”

“I am?”

“Yes!” Suga answered to both of them. He licked his lips and fixed Hajime, who was making cutthroat gestures, with a glare. “He came over to find you, Tooru. I’m sure he wants to talk, so I ... um ... told him where you were.”

“Oh.”

“What the fuck!” Hajime whispered, his face contorting. “Suga, I am not-”

“Yes, he’s just left, so stay where you are, Tooru. Oh ... oh ... got to go. Have fun!”

Just as Hajime snatched the phone, Suga hung up and grinned up at him.

“I am NOT going to see him. I’m done being the one that makes the first move.”

Sighing, Suga slowly raised himself to sitting, pleased the pain, if not gone was at least bearable for now. He cast a glance at Sawamura, who was back to looking for his medication, before widening his eyes as he stared at Hajime.

“Did you hear me say where Tooru was?” he asked quietly.

“Uh ... Morito’s, wasn’t it?” He grimaced. “Oh.”

“ _Please_ , Hajime, at least stall him,” Suga murmured, “He can’t know about this.”

“But you’re hurt, and you can’t stay here by yourself.”

He waved his hand, ignoring the tiny tremors of pain, then picking up his shirt he wrapped it over one shoulder. “I will be fine after a tablet. I’ll sleep like a baby, and wake up in the morning totally back to normal.”

“No, I can’t-”

“I could stay.” Sawamura turned. In his hand was the packet of muscle relaxants.   “Um, I mean, if you don’t think that’s a little weird, but I’ve got nothing to rush home for, and ... uh ...” His hand touched the back of his head, ruffling his hair. “Sorry, clearly a bad idea. You don’t know me at all. I’m just an idiot who caused you to lose your footing in the street, but –”

“Would you?”

_Hell, why do I sound so eager?  Gods, that’ll put him off!_

“I ... er ... mean, it’s very kind of you, but I’ll be fine very soon. As soon as I’ve taken a pill, I’ll be jumping around like a kangaroo.”

“No,” Sawamura said firmly. “They’ll take a while to work, and you need to rest first.” He smiled a little lopsidedly and directed the rest of his words to Hajime. “I really don’t mind staying, especially as he’s kind of my patient now.”

“Uh....” Suga screwed up his face, staring at Sawamura, and now he thought about it, there was something a little familiar about him, but he wasn’t sure what. “Are you a doctor, then?”

He shook his head. “Uh... no.”

Hajime laughed, and grinned down at Suga, his face far more animated now.  “It’s no use, Sawamura-san. This dork doesn’t have any clue who you are. Or his partner. Their heads are too full of patisserie cream.”

Watching Sawamura flash Hajime a rueful smile, Suga narrowed his eyes. “Is one of you going to fill me in?  Are you the Crown-Prince of Mesopotamia, or something?”

“Something, that’s right,” Hajime said, and started to snort as he walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To meet Oikawa as you’ve ordered!” he retorted, still snorting. “Don’t worry, I’ve left you in very capable ... uh ... arms.”

“Git,” he muttered, but he resisted the urge to stick out his tongue, instead focusing on Sawamura, who was hovering over him. “You really don’t have to stay. If you follow Hajime now, then he can lock up after you.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” Sawamura said softly.

When he returned, Suga had at least managed to put his shirt on. It took a while, and he wasn’t sure he was capable quite yet of managing the trousers, but the shirt was long and dropped to mid thigh, so he felt half-way to respectable, and a lot less vulnerable than before.

Besides, Sawamura was a doctor, or something, so he must have seen this all before.

He swallowed the tablet, taking several gulps of water in an attempt to get the elephant sized pill down his throat, then stared across at Sawamura, who was perching on the side of the bath.

“So ... um ... if you’re not a doctor, then ...”

“Ah ... I was training to be a physiotherapist. Dropped out in my final year.”

“Oh-kay...” His brows knitted in concentration. “So how does Hajime know you?”

“He doesn’t,” Sawamura replied. Then he flashed that glorious half-grin. “He knows _of_ me. I ... um ... I play volleyball for the Crows.”

_Crows?_

“I take it from your blank face that you don’t follow the sport.”

“Not really,” Suga said, smiling apologetically. “I have been to a match or two – Hajime’s an enthusiast, so Tooru pretends he’s interested, then drags me along, too. We spend most of our time texting each other about how dumb it all ... OH!” His hand flew to his lips. “That is _so_ rude of me.”

Sawamura laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pretend that tablet’s taken effect really quickly and you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“But ... you must be _really_ good, or famous, or something because Hajime doesn’t support the Crows.”

“I play for Japan. I ... er ... also work for _Crows PR,_ which specialises in sports, so I get wheeled out for promotional events and ... um ... motivational speeches.”

“Ah... okay, I get it now.” Licking his lips, Suga took a breath, then braced himself to stand up. He failed as another spasm ripped through him, and found himself crouching over, his palms flat on the floor.

And then he felt two arms from behind, folding across his chest. 

“I’ll get you to the sofa,” Sawamura muttered. “You’re obviously not fine, at all. You went as white as if you’d been sugar bombed again.”

 

Sugawara was light in his arms. A little flustered and embarrassed to be in this situation, but not so shy or uncomfortable that he would refuse help, Daichi was relieved to note. Adjusting his body, he pondered whether it would be easier to sweep him up princess-style to the sofa, but then Sugawara might panic and think him weird.

(He did _not_ want to be thought of as weird.)

He decided, instead, to assist Sugawara to the sofa, letting him walk, albeit slowly, while he supported him under his arms and deliberately kept his eyes firmly ahead, because the shirt which should drop to mid- thigh, was now bunching at crotch level showing off an expanse of leg and a curve of hip that really wasn’t fair considering he was blessed with so many other attributes.

“Ah, sorry, Tooru didn’t tidy up,” Sugawara apologised as they entered the small lounge.

“Hmm? Oh ...” He stared at the sofa, and something in him lightened because there was a blanket, a pillow, and a shirt that was probably used as pyjamas screwed up on the floor.

“Tooru’s the other guy that works here,” Daichi said cagily. “The alien one?”

“Mmm, that’s him. He’s my partner and isn’t that weird when you get to know him.”

“Your partner?”

“Business partner,” Sugawara qualified.

(Was Daichi imagining the emphasis he placed on ‘business’?)

“Well, he’s a friend as well. So’s Hajime, but they had a row and Tooru’s been staying here. They ... um ... live together, as ... uh ... a couple,” Sugawara added, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Um... just throw all that stuff in the corner. He can pick it up tomorrow.”

“He won’t be back, then?” Daichi asked.

“Hopefully not,” Sugawara murmured as he leant on the arm of the sofa.

Daichi nodded, picked up the bedding and folded it haphazardly, before returning to Suga. “You ... uh ... seemed anxious he wouldn’t hear about this?”

“He fusses.” Suga didn’t look at him, and his hand began to pleat at his shirt hem. Then, maybe realising what he was doing, he stopped, so it dropped back over his thighs. “Could I be a real pain and ask you to fetch me some shorts, or pyjama bottoms? I’m feeling a little ... um ... exposed.”

“Sure. I ... uh ... where?”

“Bedroom’s next door. I think I left some shorts on the bed.”

He darted into the bedroom, grabbed a pair of pale blue shorts that were where Sugawara said they’d be and hurried back out, desperate to show he wasn’t trying to linger in the guy’s bedroom. But obviously, he’d taken a look, had seen the colour scheme of lilac and cream. Except for a bedside table piled with books and papers, and an empty glass on the floor, it had been a tidy room. And one housing a double bed, with a ruffled quilt, and only one set of pillows. (He’d blinked a little on seeing that, and hurriedly shut the door.)

When he returned Suga had shuffled onto the sofa, perched on the edge, not looking quite so grey now, and the smile was back on his face. “Thank you. Sorry about the mess.”

“Uh ... didn’t notice. I’ll ... um ... do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Of course not, and help yourself to a drink. Tea, coffee, or there’s wine in the fridge, if you fancy some.”

“Water’s fine,” Daichi replied. “I have a match tomorrow, so I don’t like to drink alcohol. Can I fetch _you_ something?”

“No, I’m good. I can’t drink with these, anyway,” Sugawara replied, holding up the pill packet. “Are you hungry, Sawamura-san? Tooru cooked up a fish nimono before he left. It needs heating, but he’s a very good cook.”

“I’d expect him to be working in a bakery,” Daichi replied. He walked to the door, then just before he stepped into the landing, he took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder. “You can ... uh ... drop the honorific, or ... uh ... call me Dai-chan, if you like.”

Sugawara stopped what he was doing (which looked odd as he had one leg flexed to put in the shorts) “Um... what?”

“It’s what I’m called on court. That or Dai-sama if I have a good game. Actually, they call me sama if I have a bad game, too, so I kind of prefer Dai-chan, really. It ... um ... means the fans cheering are friendly. Or ... uh ... if that’s odd, then Daichi. I don’t mind that.”

And then Suga stared at him, his expression momentarily blank, or shocked, and Daichi cursed himself for having gone too far because basically he was just a  guy he barely knew, but wanted to know, and now he’d shoved himself into the flat, taking over and –

“Call me Suga,” he replied. “Dai ...” He paused, poking the tip of his tongue through his lips. “As you’re my doctor, maybe I should call you sensei?”

And then he smiled, his now familiar but no less heart-stopping wide sunbeam of a smile, and Daichi’s insides liquefied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was pretty much overwhelmed with the way the first chapter was received, so thank you all so much for reading. If you left a kudo then <3\. If you left a comment then many smooches.


	3. Cake Pops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Suga can't quite remember what happened the night before ...
> 
> And Daichi hopes he hasn't been boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cake pops are wonderful creations that a friend of mine makes for parties. They're like cake lollipops. Anyway, I have helped her before now when she lands a big order, and liked the idea of Suga making them, too.
> 
> Oh, and I hope you appreciate the new character turning up.

Suga was adrift on an ocean. A warm ocean lapping his skin, enveloping but welcoming, washing away every tension in his body.  Even as he stretched, there was no pain, no ache, or twinge, just the effortless waves of the sea caressing him. The sun hung almost lazily above him, its rays shimmering gently onto his eyelids. They flickered almost to open, seeing the yellow, but as he shifted onto his side, a large rock loomed over him. Or was it a shark? He flinched and his eyes flew open.

“Were you going to tell me?” the voice was soft but faintly menacing as a large pair of glittering brown eyes assessed him.

“Tooru ... what are you doing here?”

“Making sure you are all right after last night, of course.”

“Of course I’m all right,” he said warily, not completely sure what Tooru was angling at. He took a punt and licked his lips. “Sawamura-san is lovely. He came over, we got talking, he even ate some of your nimono, and left his compliments, and then ... um ...” He frowned a little because now he thought about it he couldn’t remember Daichi leaving. He supposed he must have done, but then ... He turned quickly examining the space next to him, wondering if he’d possibly ... no...

“He’d left by the time we got here,” Tooru said. “Locked up and posted the key through the door. You were conked out on the sofa, a blanket wrapped round you.”

“Ah, cool.”

“I carried you to bed,” Tooru continued, then glowered. “Falling asleep on the sofa is not going to be good for your back at all, Koushi.”

_Oh dear._   “How did you know?”

“Because Iwa-chan wasn’t concentrating and he can’t lie to save his life! He wasn’t on his way to meet me, was he? You sent him to stop me coming back.”

“He was eager enough to leave once he knew where you were,” Suga said, and stared unblinking into Tooru’s eyes. “Please tell me you haven’t had another row.”

“We’ve called a truce,” Tooru replied, and then he smirked. “Bit more of a truce, if I’m honest.”

“Good. But then why are you here?”

“Dear Lord, Koushi, are you really that obtuse? I had to see if you could move this morning, didn’t I?”

“I am fine,” Suga replied, and gingerly stretched his limbs. He wriggled to sitting, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I really am all right. Look, I can move and everything. The tablets work and ... uh ...” _Sawamura_? _Daichi_? He tested the words in his head, considering.  “Daichi is ... um ... pretty good with his hands.”

“Mmm, so Iwa-chan informed me,” Tooru said, and frowned. “Can’t say I approve.”

Laughing, Suga threw a pillow at him. “Bollocks. You jumped into bed with anything in trousers at college.”

“ONLY YOU!” Tooru huffed. “You make me out to be such an alley-cat, but I was a flirt, that’s all.” He stopped frowning and leant back in his chair, hands in his pockets as he perused Suga. “So ... what else did you get up to?”

“Um ... I can’t actually remember. He was telling me about his work. OH!  Yes, he’s a volleyball player. You should have seen Hajime’s face.”

“I did,” Tooru replied waspishly. “He was disappointed to find he’d left. Quite star-struck.”

In an obvious strop now, Tooru scuffed the carpet with his toes, and then got up. “Lover boy left you a note, by the way,” he said, handing over an envelope.  “Iwa-chan would probably like the signature to place under his pillow every night.”

“Well, when you move back in, you can distract him,” Suga said firmly, cutting off any protests with a glare.

“I expect you want to read that in private?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t steamed it open,” Suga countered.

“I’m not that interested, Koushi,” Tooru said airily. “He’s probably very boring. He certainly has boring hair.”

_Does he?_   Suga smiled to himself, picturing the cropped cut, the slight spikes and the way Daichi’s hair had curled a little into the nape of his neck.

“If you’re going to look that sappy all day, you can work in the back,” Tooru snapped. “You’ll put the customers right off their cake.”

“Get lost! Or better still, go and make me a cup of tea.”

He left - not exactly stomping, but with an irritated expression on his face, and it struck Suga that Tooru wasn’t used to competition – at least not in his private life.

_‘Suga-san’_

The note started well. Daichi had used his preferred name.

_‘I did try to wake you to tell you I was leaving, but you looked very peaceful, and I’m guessing the tablets knocked you out. Thank you for the interesting evening and the food.’_

It was almost as if he had paused for a long while before finishing the letter. Maybe he had, because the last lines, appeared less measured, his handwriting hurried.

_‘I’m playing in an exhibition tournament on Saturday, so don’t have much free time, but if you would like to call or anything, then here’s my number. No pressure, or obligation, but I would like to know how ~~you are~~ your back is, and I liked talking to you.’_

Suga stared at the number, hardly daring to breathe.

_‘Sawamura Daichi’_

_‘PS: Thank you for the cakes.’_

 

_Cakes?  What cakes? What have I ..._ The image flashed back of him telling Daichi take the box of cakes on the kitchen table, insisting, even. _Oh, yeah, the Friday Fancy demonstration cakes. Damn, I could have given him something much better._

***

 

Daichi stared down at the box on the table and flicked open the lid. Inside was perfection, the picture having not changed from the night before. Four cupcakes, swirled with pastel coloured icing, bedecked in sugar paste flowers, or bows, and one (the green iced cake) even had a butterfly perched on top. The butterfly, also made of sugar paste, had petal thin wings and had been painted (Suga had assured him – several times - it was perfectly edible as he’d used icing paint) with delicate, but vibrant colours.  As Daichi gazed, mesmerised by the intricate design, he held breath, too scared it would disintegrate if he so much as exhaled.

And although he’d fully intended to give the cakes to his neighbour for her children, he realised there was no way he could part with them. Carrying the box to the fridge, he placed the cakes inside and closed the door.

It was twelve o’clock and he was due to leave in half an hour. It was too long. He needed a distraction. He needed to stop his thoughts wandering to the man he’d left asleep on the sofa, and the fact that he’d left him his phone number.

_I mean, why the hell would he want to call? He’s ... he’s like an artist, and I’m just a jock who plays a sport he thinks is dumb._

He shouldn’t have left his phone number. He should have just written a thank you note, then maybe dropped in again. He could have bought cakes this time, struck up a bit of a friendship before showing he was interested. Besides, Suga might not be gay, and even if he was, then it didn’t follow he’d fancy him.

_What did I write exactly? Oh noooo, I underlined interesting. He might think I was taking the piss, that I thought he was boring. But he wasn’t. He was funny._

Chuckling, he remembered the conversation about the champagne in the hot water bottle. At that point, Suga hadn’t had any medication, but had still made him laugh with his slightly off-the-wall humour. Later, before he flopped asleep, he’d been even funnier, trying to explain to Daichi exactly how he made butter icing, but had kept losing his thread and collapsing into giggles. He’d shaken his head a number of times, and his hair had seemed to shimmer under the lamp light.

_Quicksilver,_ Daichi had thought again, and he’d had to clench his hand into a fist to stop from reaching across to fluff Suga’s hair.

‘Beep-boop’

_Phone!_ He grabbed it from the table, but his fingers were thumbs, slippery, buttery thumbs and losing his grip, the phone flipped into the air. Instinctively, instead of trying to grab it, Daichi held out his arms in front of him, catching the phone in the crook of his elbows.

“Great receive, Dai-chan!” he roared, then laughed at his ineptitude.

It was probably his brother. Wishing him luck, which he never failed to do, even for an exhibition match. Except he already had. So ... that left ... no one. Unless it was the coach. Yeah. Probably Ukai, or maybe Noya.

He didn’t recognise the number, and his heart suddenly felt impossibly large in his chest.

_< <‘Good luck with your match, Dai-sensei’>>_

**< <‘How’s your back, Suga-san?’>>** His fingers fumbled.

_< <‘I’m as limber as a ‘>>_

The text came through, unfinished. Daichi waited a while, then tapped.

**< <‘As limber as what? Please don’t tell me texting’s put you into spasm again.’>>**

_< <‘Um, no, I’m trying to think of something that’s limber.’>>_

Daichi snorted, loving the fact that Suga seemed to text just as he spoke. **< <‘A limbo dancer?’>>** he suggested.

_< <‘i’m better at bending forwards’ >>_the message flashed up, immediately followed by another

_< <‘SHIT SHIT WHAT DID I SAY?! FORGET THAT SENSEI!’>>_

Daichi laughed out loud. He could practically feel the heat from Suga’s face here in his apartment.

 

***

 

“Why are you looking so flustered?” Tooru asked, glancing up from a tray of petit fours and minute sandwiches that he was arranging on a cake stand.

“No reason!” Suga yelped, and stuffed his telephone back in his apron pocket. “Um, shall I take them out?”

“No, I will,” he muttered. “The state you’re in, you’ll drop them all over the floor. Get on with the scones.”

“Do we need them yet? It’s only just past midday?”

“No, bag the ones that have cooled. Batches of six, so we can sell them,” Tooru said, sounding as if he was reining in his impatience.

As Tooru left, Suga’s phone vibrated. He hesitated before pulling it out, because on one hand, it might be Daichi, and on the other, it might be Daichi.

And he didn’t have another hand.

It was Daichi.

**< <‘I wouldn’t go as low as to remember, Suga-san. :D ‘>>**

Ohhh, a smiley face, so that could have been a joke. “Wouldn’t go as ... HA!  I get it.”

_< <‘Good luck again. And don’t keep me in limbo :D Let me know if you win.’ >> _he typed, returning the joke with one equally as bad.

**< <‘It’s on TV, if you’re interested.’>>**

Okay, now was the time to make amends for the crack that volleyball was dull.

_< <‘im interred’>>_

**< <‘?’>>**

_< <‘sorry INTERESTED!’>>_ He punched the send button.

_Should I qualify? Should I add ‘in the game, because I’m not. Except I am if he’s playing._

In a flash, another message flew to his phone. **< <’In the game?’>>**

Some devilment took hold, and looking back Suga wasn’t sure if he’d still been off his head on medication, but he stared at his phone, then with deliberation typed,

_< <’that too’>>_

And then his phone died.

“NOOOOO!” he shrieked, and turned to the door to rush up to the flat for his charger.

Or would have done, except Tooru was blocking his way, arms folded across his chest.

“Did you allow Tobio to make more cupcakes?”

“Yes.” _Get out the bloody way so I can see if I have a reply!_

“Did you tell him they could be his recipe? The raspberry things?”

“Mmm, I did.” _Move, Tooru!_

“Without running it past me,” Tooru stated.

“I meant to _mention_ it, but it slipped my mind,” Suga replied, and tried a smile.

Tooru remained where he was, making the most of his height as he peered down at Suga. “The point of being in partnership, Koushi, is that we talk. What happens if his cupcakes don’t sell and we’re left with them? We’re on a tight enough budget as it is, without his expensive experiments dragging us further into the mire.”

“I know all this. They went down very well yesterday,” Suga replied, hoping his mild tone would ensure Tooru stopped the interrogation. “They will replace my Devil’s Food Cake miniatures. No one eats them when it’s this hot.”

“That is hardly the point! He should not have asked in the first place, but waited for us to instruct him!”

Suga fixed him with what he hoped was a steely glare. “I suggested it, Tooru. The cakes are very good, and the frosting is like a... a ... a taste of summer. If you’d bothered to try one, you’d have realised.” He headed out of the door and towards his flat. “Excuse me.”

“Are you planning to do any work today, Suga?” Tooru asked, his voice very soft. And Suga knew he was mad because Tooru hadn’t called him Koushi. “Or have you taken up telephone marketing as a career?”

Inhaling, he stared back at Tooru and refused to blink. “Sawamura-san texted me. I was replying. And now I need to find my charger.”

“I see...” Tooru stood to one side, but as Suga walked last, he brushed his arm against him. “Tell me, would you expect him to reply in the middle of a game?”

“Um ... no ...”

“Because that is where he’s working, and you, Suga, are also working.”

He eyed Tooru meditatively, feeling a wave of irritation flood through him, for the world knew, he’d had to put up with Tooru’s endless calls to or from Hajime since they’d opened Sugoi.

“Don’t patronise me, Oikawa. I am not the apprentice here.”  He watched as Tooru raised his eyebrows.  “We’re partners.”

“Then act like one, and do some work.”

_I should bite my tongue. He doesn’t mean it._

“I seem to be the only one pulling my weight today!” Tooru continued.

Suga raised an eyebrow. “By squabbling with Kageyama?”

“Hey, you forgot to mention the cupcakes to me. I only found out when he started whipping up some frosting, so don’t blame me for being a little annoyed. Besides,” Tooru sniffed, “he overreacts.”

Suga groaned – he wasn’t going to get a chance to watch any of the game because now he appeared to be on referee duty with this pair.

“What did you say to him?” he asked wearily.

“That we’re catering to the customer and not the other way around?”

_Oh, that didn’t sound too bad._ “And what did he say?”

Tooru’s lips twitched. With his hand he tugged his hair across his brow and scowled, then in a closed off voice, muttered in perfect mimicry, “How does the customer know what they want if we only give them the same thing?”

“He’s got a point,” Suga replied, trying to sound stern.

“He’s arrogant, and if we give him a free hand, then we’ll lose customers.”

“He doesn’t have a free hand. Maybe a few fingers,” Suga said, grinning as he pushed Tooru in front of him. “I’ll work in the shop today, but let me get my charger first.”

At that, Tooru stepped to one side, but his fingers plucked Suga’s sleeve. “You really do like this guy, don’t you? It’s not just a looks thing, is it?”

“Uh ... not sure yet,” he muttered. “But he was kind of fun, and I think we got on well.”

“What time is his game on?”

“Not sure. There are several.”

“Okay, well, if you take the early afternoon shift with Tobio,” Tooru said and slowly wetted his lips, “then how about  you watch out the back, while doing the ... uh ... cake pops order?”

Ah, great. The cake-pops’ order. Forty bloody Pokémon characters for Tooru’s nephew’s birthday party, which was tomorrow. That Tooru was supposed to have done yesterday – or at least started – but obviously hadn’t.

“How many are left to do?” Suga asked bleakly.

“I’ve made four,” Tooru said.

“Tooru, I know nothing about Pokémon except there’s a yellow one ... what’s its name... with the red cheeks?”

“Pikachu.” Tooru shook his head. “According to Takeru, Pikachu’s overrated. He wants Lucario, Nidoran, Mew and Vulpix, which are the ones I’ve made, so just do another nine each of them.”

“And you can’t do them now, why?” Suga said, fixing his best put-upon expression on his face.

“Because, Koushi, you want to stay out here, so you can watch Shoulders-san,” Tooru teased, and then his tone deepened. “And I want to use the time now to make mille-feuille.”

With a weary nod, Suga agreed, and trailed out to the shop. He stopped mid-way, remembering what he’d been about to do, ran upstairs to his flat and plugged his phone onto the charger.

***

Daichi stared at his phone, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

<<’that too’>> Suga had replied.

He checked again, then scrolled back to read his question.

_He’s interested. He’s actually interested in me. And he knows dick all about the game, so it’s me, and not volleyball._

**< <’Good.’>>** he sent back.

“Well, that’s really smooth. How bloody boring are you, Dai-chan? Very, that’s the answer.”

He gnawed his lip, waiting for a reply, but Suga had gone silent on him.

Hearing the buzzer go, he picked up his kit bag and walked to his front door. He’d ordered a car to take him to the stadium, deciding not to risk public transport on a match day, and prepared himself for the banter from his favourite driver.

“Hey, sweetheart, you called?”

“Saeko-san, I’ll be down right away.”

“Take your time, honey. Roads ain’t too bad today.”

He lingered on his doorstep, pulling out the phone again, but Suga hadn’t replied.

**< <’Bake well, and please don’t limbo dance. Your sensei doesn’t recommend it.’ >>** he typed, then hit send.

 

“You’re looking chirpy, Dai-chan,” Saeko greeted him. She grinned lopsidedly and adjusted the cap on her head. In a grey uniform and starched white shirt, she should have looked sober and ‘correct’ but Saeko Tanaka, although she behaved professionally when it mattered, also had this aura of rakishness about her. It was why she was popular, he presumed, that and the fact that she’d keep her mouth shut if anyone offloaded, or misbehaved in her car.

(Not that Daichi had ever misbehaved on the back seat. It had been a while since he’d misbehaved anywhere, having kept himself focused on volleyball since making the Japanese team. And in his position, he had to be discreet.)

“My brother’s got a trial for the Crows, did I tell ya?” Saeko said as she opened the car boot for his bag.

“Hey, that’s great. What does he play?”

“Uh ... wing spiker, but not like you, Dai-chan.”

“Huh?  What do you mean?”

“He’s one of those guys that spikes the ball a lot. Like the Ace.”

“Ah, right.” He settled back into his seat, allowing himself the luxury of stretching out, knowing Saeko wouldn’t be at all offended that he didn’t sit up front with her. Then he flipped his phone on again.

“Will you be there?”

“Hmm?”

“At the trials?”

The screen was blank. Damn. “Oh ... uh ...”

“Chirpy and distracted,” she said and started up the car. “Who’s the lucky guy, Dai-chan?”

He grinned at her, because this was the best part of having Saeko as his driver, he didn’t have to hide. She’d picked him up drunk after a PR event once, a PR event where he’d been pressed into taking along a female partner (another volleyball player, just to add to the ‘romance’). And after he’d made Saeko stop the car so he could vomit, she’d taken him back to hers, poured coffee into him, and listened whilst he again spilled his guts, but that time it was words and tears that spewed out of him.

“There ain’t no shame in it, Dai-chan,” she’d murmured. “Love ain’t wrong, you know, and if you like men, then so what. Fuck ‘em all.” Then she’d laughed. “I don’t mean ‘fuck all the men’ you won’t have time for volleyball if ya do that. And you gotta leave some of them for the rest of us.”

He’d refused any staged romances after that, remaining mute on the subject of his sexuality, and although he was pretty sure his teammates knew (or at least suspected) none of them thought it was their business to pry.

“You gonna tell your Saeko-neesan?” she probed.

“He’s out of my league, Saeko,” he sighed. “Looks like an angel.”

“You ain’t exactly shabby on that front, either. What’s the story?”

“Uh... not much. Saw him last week. Met him yesterday. Spent the evening together. He’s ... um ... funny. Got this dazzling smile, and beautiful hair. He’s talented as well, like an artist, and he works hard, has his own business and employees and-”

“Whoa, whoa, that’s quite a lot of ‘not much’,” she interrupted, slowing as she took a corner. “You been on a date then?  That’s good.”

“Not exactly,” he muttered.

‘Beep boop’

“Aghh!”

“Go on then, lover-boy, text him back, and I’ll concentrate on driving.”

_< <’I’m not doing anything more strenuous than designing Pokémon cakes. Good luck again.’ >>_

**< <’Pokémon? Sounds cool.’>>**

_< <’Ughh! Not when you have to make forty of them by tomorrow. I half wish you’d not turned up and I was still mortally injured on the bathroom floor.’>>_

**< <’only half wish?’>>**

He was fishing, he knew it, and Suga would know it, but he didn’t care.

_< <’ well, it had its upside too. :D ’>>_

**< <’ glad to hear it. ;p’>>**

_< <‘I HAVE to go. Tooru’s shouting for me. I’m going to try and watch, so good luck again.’>>_

**< <’Thank you. And good luck with the Pikachu.’>>**

<< _’ thanx.  Oh, Pikachu is overrated apparently. bye’ >>_

**< <I’ll bear that in mind.’>>**

When Suga didn’t immediately reply, Daichi put his phone away.  He was still grinning though, a fact that wasn’t lost on his smirking driver.

“You look as if you’ve won a match, Dai-chan.”

_Haven’t won anything yet. This is like the warm up, those moments of anticipation when anything’s possible and not even the sky is the limit._

***

Time crawled until three. In the space of three hours, although he tried not to clock-watch, Suga mainly worked on the till, asking Kageyama to serve the cafe customers. It wasn’t ideal, but Kageyama needed to work on his customer service skills. He was a genius in the kitchen, inventive and hard working, but Tooru was right that they had to cater for the customer. Suga’s idea was that if Kageyama interacted with the customers, then he might get a feel for them individually, and that could push his creativity further on.

‘So he leaves us and sets up on his own’  was Tooru’s constant refrain, and although this was a very real possibility, Suga was happy enough to see the talent blossom under his auspices.

He was not a particularly good businessman. He’d had an idea halfway through catering college, that this was what he’d wanted to do. A bakery-cum-cafe, where people would feel welcome, could taste a variety of cakes and take some time out from their busy lives to watch the world go by. And he’d never believed his dream could have been achieved so early, that at twenty-three he’d be owning his cafe. Well, part owning. He could not have achieved this without Tooru.

But not for the first time did he find his thoughts wandering to the fact that but for one certain event, none of this would have happened, and perhaps, despite the fact that he loved the cafe and this was his dream, maybe it had all come about the wrong way.

“Kageyama,” he murmured, when the apprentice approached. “You need to smile more, and while you can offer suggestions, don’t tell the customer that one thing is better than another, especially if not asked for your opinion.”

“But your Bakewell tart is better than Oikawa-san’s lemon cake,” he replied, frowning as if he didn’t understand what the problem was.

“That’s kind of you to say so, but it is still a matter of opinion.”

“No, the skill level is higher.”

“But they taste different, Kageyama-kun. And if someone prefers the taste of lemon to almonds, then who are we to argue?”

He grunted something, and seeing he was near breaking point, Suga swapped with him, pulling out his notebook to take orders, leaving Kageyama in charge of the counter.

He worked happily for an hour like this, still clock watching as the minute hand ticked towards match time.

“You’re looking even sunnier than usual, Suga-chan,” remarked one of his silver haired regulars, who always popped in for a coffee cream puff.

“Ah, it’s a beautiful day, Fukunaga-san,” he replied and bowed to her. “And the pleasure of seeing you, of course.”

“You’re a flatterer,” she snorted, then eyeing him beadily, added, “Have you fallen in love?”

“Maybe I have,” he said and winked at her. “Now, what can I fetch you today?”

“My usual,” she said, then lowered her voice. “Your apprentice wants me to try something else, but your choux pastry is the best.”

“Now who’s the flatterer!” he said, and rolled his eyes as she batted her heavily mascara’d lashes at him. “Fukunaga-san, I will bring you the coffee puff, and also something else to try. On the house, naturally.”

With a wink at Kageyama and a hushed ‘watch me’ Suga selected one of the raspberry cupcakes, and cut it into quarters. He then placed one slice in a miniature cake case, chose the largest and squidgiest coffee cream puff, and arranged on a plate dusting icing sugar and cocoa over a stencil to spell out Sugoi!  before sauntering over to her.

“We’re calling these a Taste of Summer, Fukunaga-san,” he improvised. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”

And as she sampled Kageyama’s cake and nodded appreciatively, Suga whispered, “Communication is the key, Kageyama-kun. I bet you next week, she’ll be ordering your raspberry cakes and not my coffee-puffs.”

After she’d left, giving Suga a smile and telling him both cakes were delicious, Tooru appeared from the back room. Carrying a platter of strawberry mille-feuille slices, he set it down on the counter.

“Looking good,” Suga said. And they did, Tooru’s puff pastry had been the best in the year, his touch delicate, his method impeccable, the layers he managed to get in his mille-feuille gave credence to the name of a ‘thousand leaves’.

“I try,” Tooru said. But although he was smiling, he didn’t once look at Kageyama, whose expression on seeing this latest batch was a mix of envy and admiration.

“Oikawa-san, will you-”

 “Did you say something?” Tooru asked, whipping around to face Kageyama.

Suga nudged their apprentice. “Not now,” he murmured, because it was not the right time to press.

But Kageyama was either deaf to Suga or blind to the mocking expression on Tooru’s face. “Would you show me how to make-”

“Don’t wanna,” Tooru laughed, and pulled his most childish expression. “You need to work it out yourself, Tobio-chan. The way I had to!”

“B-but I can’t ... I don’t have ...” he spluttered.

Glaring at Tooru, Suga pulled Kageyama away and set him to work on table clearing. He could see Tooru hovering, a smirk on his lips, but he wasn’t getting involved in another argument. Not now.

_They won’t fight in front of customers,_ he thought as he headed to the kitchen. _I will watch the game and get on with the cake pops._

 

The match Daichi was playing turned out to be part of a tournament between five teams. The Crows, Cats, Owls, Eagles and a visiting team from Brazil – the Jaguars.  They’d play a set, one side would go off, and another jump on. From what he’d manage to glean from the pre-tournament talk, the Jaguars were exceptionally good, most of their team were in the Brazil squad. Last season, Daichi’s team had finished fourth in the National league, but the Eagles – a team from the Miyagi – were Champions.  It was a time, the commentators kept reminding the audience, for all the teams to relax and maybe try new things, but at the same time no one wanted to lose face.

It was when they started – the Owls against the Cats - that Suga realised with startling clarity that he had no bloody idea what was going on. He tried to understand, but all it appeared to be was men throwing a ball and then one of them hitting it onto the ground. Then, every so often, another player would run on in a different colour shirt, which confused him even more.

All in all, by the time Suga had mixed the cake crumbs with the soft cheese and moulded thirty six balls all weighing _exactly_ thirty-six grams, he was utterly confused. The Owls, he realised, had won, but it had all been so quick, he’d missed most of it.

The Eagles came on. Reaching for the office phone, Suga dialled a number.

“I need help,” he yelled, once he realised Hajime was currently in a pub.

“Not your back again!”

“No, nothing like that!”

“Can it wait? I’m watching the tournament,” Hajime yelled back. “The Jags are on next. And they’re amazing.

“I’m watching it, too,” Suga cried. “ _Please_ come over and explain it to me.”

There was silence, a cheer (which Suga assumed was because the Owls had scored) and then a sigh from Hajime. “On my way, but I’m bringing beer.”

“Ah, you’re a sweetheart.  And you can have as much cake as you want.”

“No thanks. Who do you think has to eat up the leftovers, Suga-chan?”

He’d finished the Mews by the time Hajime arrived. Mew was an easy cake pop, pale pink with little ears, he only had to mould a little and dip into the melted candy before waiting for it to harden so he could add the detail.

“Right, what do you need to know?” Hajime asked. He sat down on a chair, tipping it back as he opened a can of beer.

“Okay, for a start, what does Daichi do?”

“He’s a wing spiker. They’re the ones on the side, generally.”

“Like that person.” Suga pointed to the screen as one of the Owls received the applause. “The one with the funny hair.”

“Uh... yeah, but Dai-sama’s more of a defence specialist. Bokuto’s the Ace.”

“The what?”

“Ace. He scores the most points. Well, sort of. He’s the one that gets entrusted with the ball when it’s a particularly tricky point.”

“So Daichi’s not trusted.” Suga could feel his face fall.

But Hajime laughed. “Different type of trust – your masseuse is the one they trust to defend that back line. When he’s on form, Brazil could be serving at their strongest and Dai-sama will get it back.”

“And Brazil are good. Is that right?”

“You could say that,” Hajime chuckled.

“So why aren’t his team at the top of the league? The commentator said they were fourth.”

“He can’t do everything, Suga. He’s one of six on the court at one time. A lot depends on the players around him, and the Crows are strong, but ... well ... they’re erratic, and their Setter’s not the best. Funny, that’s always been a position they’ve struggled with.”

“Which one’s the Setter?”

“Um ... well on the Owls, it’s that guy, Akaashi. He’s pretty good. They toss the ball to the guy who’s gonna spike.”

“The Ace?”

“Uh... yeah, some-  OH, YEAH!  GREAT ONE, BO!”

“Bo’s an Owl, yes?”

“Uh-huh. GET ANOTHER ONE!”

“But you don’t support the Owls.”

“Bokuto’s universally adored,” Hajime replied, soft punching Suga on the arm. “Bit like you.”

He watched for a while longer, moulding the next set of cake pops into Nidoran’s form. This one was trickier, probably the trickiest of the four, but he figured it was best to crack on before Daichi stepped on court.

“Oh, did they lose?”

“Owls did, yeah.” Hajime’s voice was distant as he focused more intently on the screen. “This is the set I wanted to see. The Jags are amazing, Suga. They’re a whole skill level up on us. I doubt even the Eagles can – WHOA, LOOK AT SANTAMORI GO!”

“Huh?”

“THEIR ACE! I never realised he was so fast. And he’s quite a little guy, too. Do you have any idea how hard it is to play when you’re short?  I mean, even the Liberos are a decent size -”

“Who?”

“Liberos.  They’re the guys that swap in and out for another player.”

“OH!”  Suga beamed, pleased to have made the connection. “I wasn’t imagining it then. There are players in opposite coloured shirts, yes?”

“HEY!” The door from the shop burst open. “Less noise, Koushi. You’re... oh...” Tooru’s voice softened, then almost on instinct he purred. “Iwa-chan, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Came through the back,” Hajime muttered, looking grumpy, but he stuck out his arm, gesturing for Tooru to come closer. “Didn’t want to disturb you in the shop, but Suga needs help identifying what his boyfriend does for a living.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Suga snapped.

“He’s making you blush, though,” Tooru replied. He smiled a little, his eyes flicking to the screen. “Oh, that’s him, isn’t it? My goodness, it’s not just his shoulders that are impressive. Look at those thighs.”

Suga gaped. To the side of the court, waiting to come on stood a team in black. _Crows, obviously._ Daichi stood in the middle, limbering up, stretching one arm across another, chatting and – it appeared – exhorting the team.

“Uh... is he the Captain?” he asked, noticing the line under the number one on his shirt.

“Mmmhmm. He’s pretty young, too. Twenty-four, I think. He stepped up two months back when the previous guy was injured out of the game. He’s done a decent job. He might keep the captaincy.”

“You sound very grudging,” Tooru murmured, and bending down he nipped Hajime’s ear.

“Get off.” He pushed Tooru away but was grinning up at him. “Dai-chan’s a good player, but I’m not a Crows fan.”

“Who do you like again?” Suga asked. He knew Hajime had told him before. He’d even gone to see them play when his team had played in Tokyo, but all he could remember were turquoise shirts playing against a team in black and white. That and Hajime being in a shitty mood when they lost and Tooru laughing at him.

“Laurels.”  He glowered. “They’re another Miyagi team. Currently doing pretty shit, but ... uh ... we lost some players, too, to the Tokyo teams.”

“Laurels? What?”

“Like a laurel wreath ... the ones champions wear,” Hajime muttered, looking grumpy. “We used to be bloody good, all right!”

“You should switch to the Crows,” Suga said sagely.

Letting out a despairing laugh, Hajime picked up his beer and took a swig. “You know absolutely nothing about supporting a team, do you, Suga? You can’t switch. You’re in it for life.”

“Iwa-chan?” Tooru said, ruffling his hair. “Who’s that player with the sticky out hair? The black sticky out hair, I mean, not that grey haired person. Wearing red.”

“Uh... on the sidelines?” Hajime peered closer. “Kuroo. He’s a Cat. They’re pretty shit, too, but ... uh ... he’s classy. Plays for Japan. Why?”

Tooru flicked his ear again then pulled away. “Think I’ve just become a fan, and as you said, we’re not allowed to switch.”

“Traitor!” Hajime yelled, and threw the empty beer can at Tooru’s head.

As the cameras returned to the game, and Tooru went back to the shop, Suga focused properly on the cake pops, moulding the last Nidoran. He dipped each one into the melted candy, twisting around to ensure everywhere was covered, and watching as the glossy drops dripped back into the bowl.  But the idea of finishing before the Crows began their match was thwarted when the Jaguars powered to an easy victory over the Eagles.

“Your man’s about to step on court, Suga,” Hajime said, then lowered his voice. “You might want to put that down. You’re dripping the icing all over the table.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, and stuck the pop into the stand to dry. He could feel his heart thumping, but it wasn’t just down to seeing Daichi on screen. There was a noise in the stadium, one he’d not noticed before, a thrum of expectation, and voices chanting, ‘Dai-sama, Dai-chan, Dai-sama, Dai-chan.’

“He’s got a lot of fans,” Suga mumbled.

“He’s a good player, very dedicated, and okay, so he’s not one of the characters of the game, but he’s reliable and although he won’t talk before a match, he’ll always spare a word after – no histrionics. Not like some of them who are jerks.”

“Female fans,” Suga clarified.

“Ah ... well, they all do, if that makes you feel better.”

_Not really._ Daichi did a practise serve, thundering it over the net as the crowd notched up their applause.

Touching Suga on the arm, Hajime stopped watching the television, his eyes both tender and intense. “You know when we came back last night,” he said softly. “You were tucked up on the sofa. I mean really tucked up, he’d not just draped a blanket over you. He’d also refilled your hot water bottle, brought you a glass of iced water, and washed the dishes.”

“He’s polite.”

“That too, but if you want my honest opinion, then I think he likes you. And, not that I know anything, but he’s never really been linked with anyone – male or female.”

“We have been texting,” Suga admitted.

“There you go then. Now stop worrying about female fans, or whatever, and watch Dai-sama on court,” Hajime chided.

Unable to concentrate, he stopped creating the cake version of a Pokémon army, and pulled up a chair next to Hajime. He declined a beer, knowing he had to keep a clear head, and fixed his eyes on the man in black.

_He’s been standing on the pavement over the road from us for a week,_ he thought.

_I tipped icing sugar all over him yesterday._

Daichi stood at the back of the court and prepared to serve, biceps rippling as he spun the ball between his fingers.

_How can someone so strong be so gentle with his hands?_

The serve was fast, strong, but not an ace, the Brazilian Libero reaching it easily.  Daichi shifted forwards, sidestepping, as he kept his eyes on the ball and the opposing team. The spike came almost immediately, but to a huge cheer from the crowd, Daichi received with ease, nullifying its power, and propelled it towards their Setter.

“He’s really good, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Hajime replied. “Not flashy, so not noticeable, not like Bo, but he’s the one you want on your team.”

_So why on earth would he be interested in me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. All comments and kudos appreciated. I have finished this story, but could always insert a favourite cake if you have a preference. :D


	4. (First) Date Loaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Suga decides volleyball is the most interesting and amazing game he's ever seen - much to Hajime's amusement. Tooru also declares an interest, and Daichi tries not to be dull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another two characters emerge. (Actually a few do, but not all of them are intrinsic to the plots)

 On court, Daichi was in control. On court he could fly. (It was everywhere else he floundered.)  That afternoon he felt even more attuned to the game than usual. It was, he thought, unfortunate that it was an exhibition tournament, and meaningless in many respects (although the money and publicity for the game was good) because he could feel his senses tingling. His eyes were sharper, his moves slicker, and his ability to anticipate had grown tenfold.

“Playing against these guys really helps, huh?” their Libero remarked when they stopped for a timeout. “You’re on fire, Daichi.”

“Yeah, that must be it, Noya,” he said, but he knew otherwise.

_Suga’s watching. And he doesn’t even like the sport._

“Time’s up!” yelled Coach Ukai. “Captain, you’re playing well, but don’t use up all your energy just because we’re playing Champions. We’ve got other matches here, and I want to mix things up a bit when we play the Cats, okay?” He rubbed the back of his head, and Daichi knew from looking at him that he was desperate for a cigarette. “Yamaguchi, you’ll get a chance today.”

Their newest signing, a very young player, fresh from High School, nodded with glassy eyes at the Coach. A pinch-server, Daichi had never seen him not look terrified. He was undoubtedly good, and had the ability to turn a game, but suffered from appalling nerves. Currently pale, his face would turn green before he stepped on court, and already he was shaking.

Daichi clapped an arm across his shoulders. “It’s an exhibition match, Yamaguchi-kun. Don’t worry too much. We’re all trying new things, okay?” he exhorted, and was rewarded with a smile, wavering it was true, but still a smile.

 “Oya, cameras are out in force,” Noya interrupted and grinned at one, displaying his shirt with pride.  He pulled on Daichi’s sleeve. “You could glower at the folks back home, Daichi-san.”

 _Or I could..._ Much to Noya’s surprise, and his own, if he were honest, Daichi turned his head, stared into the camera and then winked.

***

“AGHHH! HE WINKED. HE WINKED. AND THAT SMILE!”

“WHOAAA!  Is that Mr Serious, there? Suga, what have you done to the guy? He usually ignores all of that. ”

 

***

Daichi was surprised things didn’t go pear-shaped after that. Being the type of player who was known for his maturity and stoicism, which was why the nickname of Dai-chan was often shouted with irony, he felt a thrill thrum through him when he stepped back on court. He wasn’t daunted by the task ahead. Somehow, the aura surrounding the Jaguars wasn’t affecting him in the slightest.

He grinned as their Captain eyeballed him. He towered over Daichi, but all Daichi noticed was the green of his shirt. As green as the frosting on Suga-san’s cupcake. Almost the exact shade.

 _I’m going to make you as fragile as the butterfly perched on top,_ he thought.The Jaguars Captain glowered ferociously, and Daichi laughed.  _But you’re nowhere near as beautiful._

Turning, he faced his team. “Crows! Let’s FIGHT!”

“And WIN!” screeched Noya from the sidelines, his grin now wider than ever, a tuft of his red streaked hair bobbing as he jumped up and down.

Yes, it was just an exhibition tournament. No, it didn’t have a real meaning in world and league standings. And, sure, the Jaguars were mixing things up, but when the Crows took the set twenty-five points to twenty-one, Daichi felt like cracking open the champagne.

(And even drinking it out of a hot water bottle if he could share it with a certain someone who was probably up to his elbows in cake pops - whatever they were.)

“YOU GUYS!” roared Ukai. “JUST BEAT THE MOTHER-FUCKING CHAMPIONS!”

Daichi grinned again. “C’mon, let’s go get those Cats.”

***

“OW!” Hajime raised his arms, fending Suga off him. “Will you chill?”

“HE WON!”

“And that means you have to punch me!” Hajime retorted and rubbed his arm. “How the hell are you so strong? I’m going to have a dead arm for at least a week.”

“He’s amazing,” Suga breathed, not listening to Hajime, who appeared to be complaining about something. “Volleyball is the most fantastic thing ever. Hajime, why have you never told me about this fabulous game?”

Hajime actually rolled his eyes the way they did in books, an exaggerated loop round and back of his pupils, and then he cuffed Suga on the back of the head. “Get back to your cake-pops, Koushi-chan, and let me watch the rest of this tournament uninjured.”

***

_< <CONGRATULATOINNNNSSSS!!!!!>>_

“Aww, cute! Adoring fans already texting, Dai-sama?” Noya asked, beaming across the changing room as Daichi fumbled for his phone.

“Not sure he’s a fan or adoring, but he’s certainly cute,” Daichi replied without thinking. He blinked, wondering whether to explain. But then, what was there to explain, except he was positive he’d played out of his skin and led the team to the tournament victory because of a certain angel, who was only watching because of him.

“A guy, huh?” someone, probably Futakuchi who was never backward at coming forward, asked.

The room fell silent, and he could feel half their eyes on him, while the others looked away, desperate to appear busy and as if they weren’t the slightest bit interested.

“What does it matt-” Noya started to say before Daichi stopped him.

“Yep, a guy,” was all he said, then pulling on a clean team shirt, he faced them all. “Right, are going up to get this trophy?”

“Hell, yeah!” the team cried, and Daichi was gratified that Futakuchi’s voice was louder than anyone’s and his smile wasn’t a smirk, but genuine.

He lingered at the door, reading Suga’s message again.

**< <’Glad you watched. Hope it wasn’t too dull for you.>>**

_< <’OMGGG!! You’re not going to let me live that down are you?’>>_

**< <’No chance!’>>**

“Captain!” growled Ukai. “Get out here and lead your team!”

But although he sounded fierce, his grin was wide and he whacked Daichi on the back of the head. “Great job, Captain. I don’t know what got into you today, but keep that up and we’ll be winning everything next season.”

 **< <’I have to go pick up this trophy’>>** Daichi typed, with a little regret. **< <’And then I have a function to attend.’>>** He held his breath, then sent his last message. **< <’ May I call you tomorrow?’>>**

“Hey!  Sawamura, come on! You can’t keep these guys waiting!”

_< <’Y’>>_

_Huh?_

_< <’Es!’>>_

_< <’oops!  I mean yes.’>>_

Daichi grinned as he deciphered the message. “On my way, Ukai-san. On my way!”

***

The last Vulpix was wrapped in cellophane, a twist of shiny ribbon tying it to the stick. Setting it carefully in the box, Suga stared down at the forty Pokémon faces glaring back at him. He scowled at them, but in his current mood, however much he loathed them, he couldn’t be angry and soon the smile returned to his face.

“I hope Takeru’s happy with you,” he muttered and massaged his fingers.

A pair of hands snaked round his waist. Suga didn’t flinch, and neither did his heart race, but he smiled a little, especially when Tooru pecked his cheek.

“My nephew will be ecstatic. Thank you.”

“Are you taking them now?”

“I _could_ do, but I was going to take them over tomorrow.” He gave Suga another kiss, then let him go. “Shall I cook tonight, or would you like to go out?”

“Neither,” Suga said firmly. Tilting his chin up, he met Tooru’s eyes. “I’m going to relax in a bath, and have an early night. You, however, are going to clear your things from my flat and go back to your own home.”

With a hint of a pout, Tooru adjusted one of the cake pops, and closed the cardboard lid. “We still haven’t fully made up. I think a few more nights apart are for the best.”

“Rubbish,” Suga chided him, giving Tooru a soft punch to the chest. “You were all over each other earlier, so give Hajime a call and tell him you’ll be back tonight.”

“Koushi, you can’t-”

He ploughed on, knowing he was right, especially when Tooru started twisting his hair and not quite looking his way. “You don’t _need_ to stay here, Tooru.”

Tooru swallowed and reached across to him, stroking his cheek. “You were hurt. You should have called me.”

“Why do you think I didn’t? You’d have rushed back from Morito’s and still have been fussing.”

“It’s not _fussing_. It’s looking after you.”

“No one has to look after me. Put Hajime first, please.”

“Is Shoulders-san coming over? Is that why you want me out of the way?”

Although he could have lied, told Tooru that, yes, he had a date tonight, he shook his head. And whether it was because he felt he owed Tooru the truth, or that he didn’t want to jinx any future possible dates,  Suga didn’t know.

“He’s calling me tomorrow,” he admitted, and tried to quell the bubble of excitement in his chest, because what if he asked him out, or wanted to drop round.

(Could he really be that presumptuous? Daichi had said he wanted to call him. It might only be because he wanted more cakes. Or maybe the jacket wasn’t properly clean or...)

Mentally shaking himself, Suga returned to the matter in hand: Tooru’s insistence on staying. He could see the real reluctance and longing fighting in Tooru’s expression. It was so clear he wanted to go back home, but at the same time his loyalty and guilt were imploring him to stay. And although Suga liked his company, tonight all he wanted was time alone to drift and dream.

“How about you sleep over at ours?” Tooru suggested. “Or come out to dinner. Koushi, don’t look at me like that. At least consider it.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You need to talk properly, and if I’m there, you’ll play up to the audience and there will be a row I have to referee, or a passionate make-out session, where I have to look away.”

After a while of studying him, no doubt analysing every nuance in Suga’s voice, Tooru sighed. “Okay, if I go back- and I mean ‘if’ -then you have to promise me you’ll call at the first sign of any problems. And-“

“What?”

“No lifting of heavy sacks, and no strenuous exercise.”

“Me?” Suga laughed. “I wasn’t planning on going to the gym.”

Winking, Tooru headed towards the door to the stairs. “That wasn’t the exercise I was thinking of, Kou-chan.”

 

Kageyama was cleaning the shop, his usual job and one he never complained about despite Suga knowing he’d rather be baking or inventing. He watched him for a while, marvelling at the intensity of his expression even as he swept up then mopped the floor. Unaware he was being observed, Kageyama was still meticulous, not cutting corners or literally sweeping anything under the mat.

 _We made a good choice with you,_ Suga thought and wished Tooru felt the same.

“Suga-san, is everything all right? Am I doing anything wrong?” Kageyama asked.

“No, it looks good. I’ll clean the counter if you want to get home early.”

“Uh ...” He bit his lip, looking uncharacteristically unsure. “I was wondering if you would like me to stay behind for a while. I’ll ... uh ... cook if you want, get things ready for tomorrow. Maybe start the –”

“Kageyama-kun,” Suga interrupted, “You’ve worked very hard today. Don’t you want to go home and rest?”

He shuffled his feet, and his hands on the mop seemed all of a sudden clumsy, quite different from usual. “I can’t cook there,” he muttered. “I don’t mind cleaning up, or paying for any ingredients. I just want to ... I don’t want to go ... uh ...” He blinked a few times; it appeared to steady him. “Sorry, I won’t ask again.”

Narrowing his eyes a fraction, Suga considered, and then he placed a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. “You can stay for a little while. We can make the miniature lemon drizzle cupcakes, if you’d like. They’re always best when left to soak in the syrup overnight.”

Kageyama’s expression shifted a little, the muscle in his cheek no longer tense as he relaxed his face. The relief he felt shimmering in the air between them.  And Suga wondered again about his apprentice.

“I could sort out the stock room, too. I know you can’t lift heavy things at the moment, Suga-san.”

“That’s kind of you, but the stock room’s fine.” He pressed his lips together and tried to affect a casual air as he continued, “Feel free to say no, there’s not an obligation because I’m your employer, but would you like to stay for dinner, Kageyama-kun?” He hoped he sounded friendly and not too formal, but then again, as Kageyama’s employer, he did need to strike a professional note, too. “We could eat down here, discuss recipes, the shop and your future, perhaps.”

And he hadn’t been imagining it because this time Kageyama’s shoulders unknotted and he almost smiled.

 

They spent a reasonable evening together. It couldn’t be called comfortable simply because Kageyama was too tightly wound to ever fully relax. He appreciated propriety, looking horrified when Suga had suggested he drop the ‘san’, and continually bowed his head when leaving the room, or accepting advice. It both amused and pained Suga to watch him.

It was only when he cooked, when he was creating, that Kageyama looked happy. His jaw would unclench, his eyes widen (showing off rather beautiful blue eyes) and a hint of colour would suffuse his cheeks.

Suga told himself he was supervising when Kageyama cooked, but really, he was watching and delighting in their apprentice’s joy. And then, while Kageyama whisked up the lemon drizzle cupcakes, he pulled out a bowl and started something new.

“Meringue,  Suga-san?” Kageyama asked when he saw Suga separating eggs.

“Mmm, I had an idea for miniature baked Alaska cakes. What do you think?”

“Uh ...” Kageyama swallowed, looking unsure his opinion was really warranted.

“Please tell me,” urged Suga.

“Won’t the ice cream melt?”

“Well, yes, but I was thinking that I could prepare them beforehand, add the ice cream right before serving, then use the blow torch to blast the meringue. Could be very popular over summer, especially if this heat keeps up.”

Nodding, Kageyama returned to his batch of cakes, but he kept his eyes on Suga’s meringues and even offered his opinion on the flavour of ice cream when asked.

They passed another hour together, with Suga doing most of the talking and Kageyama assenting, but as the time approached nine, Suga felt weariness descend. It had been a long day coping with his back injury, trying not to show it still twinged, but also bubbling excitement of Daichi’s texts and the game.

“Kageyama-kun,” he said gently. “I will have to lock up soon. Are you all right to get home, or would you like a lift?”

He glanced at the clock, then his watch, and although he looked reluctant to leave, there was none of the desperation from earlier.  Refusing the lift, because the bus dropped him off at the end of the road, Kageyama cleaned down the surfaces and washed his hands before folding up his apron. He left with another bow, yet the formality from earlier had softened. As he promised to rest on his day off, Suga watched him leave, locked up the shop, and then trailed up to his flat.

He was tired, and his back was starting to protest, so after some more medication, he went to bed. And just before he fell asleep, he checked his phone, not expecting anything, but wanting to relive the day.  He laughed as he reread his messages, then just as he was about to sleep, it buzzed.

**< <’Evreyone her is ver boring.’>>**

 Giggling, and suddenly not feeling tired at all, Suga replied. << _’Why?’_ >>

**< <’I trying to explain that i need a ht water bottle for my champagne, but they won’t listen.’ >>**

<< _’Fools! They know nothing.’_ >>

**< <’They think im drnk.’>>**

<< _’are you?_ >>

 **< <’NOt on champgne.’>> **pinged back the almost immediate reply.

_Wow ... Did he mean that?_

**< <my phne is rnng out of chge ad sko wnts to tke me hme. CLL u tmrw. x’>>**

Suga’s giggle was cut short, his smile faltered as he studied the message again. Daichi was still saying he’d call. And there was a kiss. But ... _Sko?_

_Can I ask? No, that’s going to look... wow, who’s he going home with? Teammate? Uh ..._

His eyelids drooped. He wanted to puzzle this out, but the long day and the medication were finally taking their toll and he slumped back into bed.

But it wasn’t a relaxing sleep, not like the previous night and when he awoke – later than usual -  he felt more tired than he had the night before. A shower helped a little, the hot needlepoints piercing his skin, as he lathered up shower gel and slathered it all over his body.

‘Not on champagne.’ He’d thought it was a come on, an attempt to flirt, a line.

 _He probably drank beer. That’s what he meant,_ Suga told himself.

He’d been stupid to assume anything. He and Daichi were, after all, just acquaintances. Even if Daichi had massaged his back, and texted him, promising to call (okay, he hadn’t actually said ‘I promise’ but he’d made it clear he was interested, hadn’t he?) it didn’t mean he actually wanted to see him in ‘that’ way.

Grabbing a towel, he rubbed vigorously, scrubbing at his skin until it was raw. He grimaced at his reflection, and wondered how he could look human when he felt so zombie-like inside.

And then his phone rang.

And he nearly ricked his back dashing to answer it.

“AGHH!” he screamed, fumbling. He took several quick breaths answering finally on the seventh ring.

“Hello,” croaked a voice.

“Hello...” Suga said cautiously, just in case someone (this Sko person, perhaps) was using Daichi’s phone.

“I feel horrible.”

“Um ... okay...” He smiled, but only a little, because yes, it was Daichi, but why did he feel horrible? Was it the one night stand with the scumbag Sko?

“I drank too much champagne,” Daichi continued. “And my head hurts.”

“Then shouldn’t you be in bed.” Suga kept his voice level.

“Er ... yeah, probably. But I’m awake and read the messages I sent you and thought I should apologise.”

“What for?” he asked, hoping he sounded as if he didn’t give a toss.

“I _really_ don’t drink very often, and you were probably tired. And they kind of made no sense. I should have listened to Saeko.”

“Who?” His pulse quickened. _Saeko ... Sko?_

“Saeko, she’s my driver,” Daichi said. “Well, a driver, but I get her to drive me to these events.”

“She took you home,” Suga said slowly, and a smile began on his face. “She’s your driver.”

“Mmm, anyway, she told me not to text when drunk, but would I listen?”

Suga sat on his sofa, the towel loosely round his waist, and suddenly the world felt a better place. The clouds that had dampened his mind and darkened his dreams, were already on the horizon. They disappeared at Daichi’s next words.

“So ... Suga-san, if my drunken texts haven’t alarmed you too much, would you ...” He coughed. “Would you like to have a drink with me? Could be coffee, I don’t have to be in a bar all the time, or movie ... we could catch a movie. Um ... yeah.”

“I’d love to,” Suga interrupted, and unable to keep the sheer relief and happiness away, he burst into laughter.

 

***

Daichi disconnected the call with great reluctance, but also a grin. He’d actually done it. He’d gone and got himself a date with an angel. Okay so it wasn’t anything flash, just a drink, but he’d figured if either of them needed to bail, then that was easier than a restaurant ...

Is he going to want to bail? Have I been incredibly dull again?

He gritted his teeth. The trouble was, it had been a long time since he’d had a date. There’d been a guy in high school –from volleyball team – but they’d just fallen into a relationship, and quickly fallen out when Daichi left for university.  His next boyfriend had been different. Quite shy, painfully insecure, they’d been on the same course, and had played volleyball for the college. But he hadn’t had Daichi’s talent or drive to make it to the big time, and he’d never understood why Daichi had chucked in his degree to turn pro.

Still ruminating, his attention was caught by a flier on his doormat. Brightly coloured and festooned with balloons, he grinned and then pressed redial.

“Suga.”

“Hello again.”

“About our date-”

“You have to cancel.” The voice was small, dulled.

“No, nooo, not at all, just ...a bar’s a bit boring, so, how about the festival? Late afternoon?”

He was rewarded with Suga’s lilting giggle. “I haven’t been to a festival in years. That sounds brilliant.”

 

Of course, now he’d asked him out, Daichi had make sure he looked decent. Catching sight of himself in the mirror at stubbly chin and dark circles under his eyes, he groaned. It would have been far better to arrange the date for another day, but the problem was he had no free time next week because trials were starting. Yes, he’d be back the following weekend, but there was something about Suga that careened him back to his university days, and grabbing his chances while he could.

“Shower, shave and a bit more sleep and maybe I’ll be all right,” he muttered at his reflection, before sloping back to bed to catch another hour.

Except  the strains of the past week, and yesterday’s tournament had obviously taken a heavier toll than he realised, and he woke three hours and forty minutes later - an hour before he’d said he’d meet Suga at Sugoi.

“WHY ME?” he despaired as he lurched from his bed to the bathroom. Once again, he stared at the mirror, agonising over his next move. At least the bags under his eyes had gone.

“Wonder if I could get away with stubble,” he muttered, twisting his face to profile.  “Will I look cooler? Will he like that? No, I just look as if I couldn’t be bothered.”

He shaved with surprisingly untrembling fingers and debated whether to get rid of the sideburns, but left them because he remembered someone (Noya, he thought) telling him they were rad.

He then showered, wasting precious seconds to choose a shower gel scent (he had a row of miniatures that he’d liberated from the hotels in America from when Japan had toured) because what if they were too overpowering. The last thing he wanted was to smell like Perfect Hai-, ‘Oikawa’ he corrected mentally, so he settled for something citrusy and hoped Suga would approve.

He was stepping out of the shower, dripping all over his bathmat, when the buzzer went.

“Yes,” he snapped.

“Yo, Sawamura, let me in.”

“Go away.”

“C’mon. I’m dying out here in this heat.”

“No, I’m going out soon. Go away.”

“Out?”

“Yes.”

“You never go out! It’s Sunday. I can set my calendar by you staying in and watching sport all afternoon.”

“Not today. Bye!” He slammed off the button, and ran to his bedroom to rifle through his wardrobe.

“Shirt, shirt, shirt,” he muttered, trying to decide because the trouble was, they all looked the same and utterly boring to him.

Someone was pounding at his door. “Sawamura, let me in!”

“GO AWAY!”

“I know you’re not going out, and I need t’ talk!”

“I AM GOING OUT! I’M GETTING DRESSED NOW!”

“I don’t believe you, and I’m staying here ‘til you let me in.”

“I HAVE A DATE!”

Silence crashed on them. Holding his head in his hands, Daichi waited.

“Oya, Sawa-chan. Ain’t you the cunning one. Gonna tell me who?”

“No one you know. He’s nothing to do with volleyball,” he said. “ _Please_ go home.”

“Nope. You ain’t been on a date for years,” replied the voice behind the door. “So you need help. And we can talk at the same time.”

His visitor wasn’t going to leave, Daichi knew that. If he didn’t let him in, he’d make more noise, or worse slip away and then follow Daichi to his destination. Wrenching open his front door, assuming his most glowering expression, he faced his nemesis (and best friend).

“What do you want, Kuroo?”

Kuroo Tetsurou, Captain of the Cats, lounged in his doorway, a smile glimmering on his lips.

“You’re wearing a towel, Sawamura, and I don’t think you want to know what I want.”

Rueing the day he’d ever decided Kuroo was a friend, Daichi stood to the side and gestured for him to come in.

“I really _am_ going out,” he said.

“You r _eally_ have a date?”

“I might.” He glared at Kuroo, who smirked back. “Okay, yes, I do.”

“Hey, what’s with the face? I’m pleased for ya.”

“Then can you make this quick and leave?”

Kuroo sauntered in. He was carrying a six-pack of lager and had a smile on his face, but there was a hint of desperation in his expression.

“Uh ... I was kinda hoping we could hang out this afternoon.”

“Why?”

“It’s been a while,” Kuroo said, and sitting down on the sofa, he reached for the TV remote. “I thought we needed to catch up.”

“Hey, don’t get comfortable!” Daichi exclaimed and snatched the remote. “I saw you last night, anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like hanging out together, is it? We had to mingle, be polite, and watch our language and alcohol intake.”  He flashed Daichi a crooked grin. “Not that I saw much evidence of you abstaining.”

“We won. I was celebrating and ... I didn’t actually have that much, just not used to it, I guess.” He nudged Kuroo’s legs with his foot.  “Why are you really here?”

Kuroo exhaled loudly, the action causing his hair to flip off his face. He sank back into the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. “Kai’s girlfriend has come over. She brought her sister and they’re discussing wedding crap.”

“You’re the best man, don’t you need to be there?”

“I’ll turn up on the day and do my speech. They don’t need my opinion on flowers and what kind of cake. I mean how many different kinds ‘o cake can there be?”

Turning away, Daichi stifled a grin. “I’m getting changed. If you want to stay here, you can. Okay?”

Kuroo pushed his bottom lip out, an exaggerated pout, which he thought made him look cute. “Sidelining your mate for a date. I don’t know what’s got into you, Sawamura.”

“I’m not sidelining-”

Flapping his hand, Kuroo laughed. “I’m kiddin’. Go and get ready. I’m fine here by myself.”

In the end, after ten tortuous minutes trying to decide on the navy polo shirt or the maroon one, then thinking both looked incredibly dull and ‘old man’ and scrabbling for a red t-shirt with a dragon on the back to go with his black shorts, he headed back to the lounge.

“Whoa, what you done with my pal Sawamura?” Kuroo said when he saw him. He’d stretched out across the sofa, but got to his feet when Daichi stood in the doorway. “You look ... uh ... pretty cool.”

“I have my moments,” Daichi replied wryly. He took in Kuroo, wondering why He’d stood up. “Uh, this is my flat. I can actually show myself out.”

“Your car’s still at the garage, ain’t it?”

“Mmm, I’m going by train. If I leave now, I won’t be late.”

“Nah, they’ll be jam packed today. And your face is plastered all over the Sunday newspapers, so you’ll be mobbed.” Kuroo jangled his keys in his pocket. “How ‘bout I give ya a lift?”

Daichi’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“A lift. You know, it’s the thing friends do for each other. Like, you get in my car, and I take you where you wanna go. You thank me, and I drive off. Or ...” He smirked. “I could drive both you and your date to your destination. I’ll even drive you back-”

“You are NOT crashing my date!” snapped Daichi. “Suga doesn’t need to meet an idiot like you telling embarrassingly untrue stories, so get that thought right out of your head.”

“Suga-eh ... OH ... now I get it...” His smile became sly.

“Get what?”

“Reason for that box of cakes in your fridge. Quite a change to see something decent in there instead of all that health crap. ‘Sugoi’, huh?” He pondered a little, still jiggling his car keys. “I think I’ve passed it before now. Cafe with green trellis work?” As Daichi nodded, Kuroo clapped his hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll take you there, and I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

“Why are you putting yourself out for me?” he asked, suspicious because Kuroo was a crafty bastard.

But the face he pulled looked sincere, and his mouth drooped a little at Daichi’s accusatory tone. “You ain’t looked this excited since you made the starting line-up for Japan.  I’d kinda like to see the guy who’s put that smile back on ya face.”

 

Only slightly against his better judgement, Daichi agreed to the lift. It was good of Kuroo, whatever ulterior motive he might have, and as they made their way to the bakery, Kuroo’s steady stream of chat kept Daichi’s mind off the impending date, keeping him calmer than he might have been.

It was ridiculous. He was twenty-four, a professional sportsman who was used to playing on the big stage, dealing with journalists and giving motivational speeches. He wasn’t fazed by the opposing teams, wasn’t scared by the best Aces or the fastest of serves. But his hands were shaking so much now he had to sit on them to stop Kuroo commenting.

“So, how long you known this guy, then?”

“Ab-ab.. uh ... wuk,” he rasped

“Huh?”

 _Calm down, you dumbass_. He swallowed, somewhat clearing the lump threatening to solidify in his throat. “About a week,” he said.

“Oh ...” Kuroo slowed a little as he took a corner. “This ain’t a first date, is it?”

“Uh ... yeah, could be.”

“Guess that explains why you look as if you’re about to spew.”  He grinned, casting Daichi a sideways glance. “It’ll be fine. You play volleyball. That’s cool. You’d be cooler if you’d sign for the Cats ...”

“Which _won’t_ happen,” Daichi  retorted.

“Money’s good...”

“Crows pay well,” he replied, adding, “and we’re better. Can’t get cooler than that.”

They kept up the chat, Kuroo needling him with small barbs, picking holes in the Crows’ current line-up, because ‘hell knows you need a decent Setter’ and all the while, as he countered, laughing at the Cats’ latest signing, who though exceptionally tall, was incredibly clumsy, Daichi could feel himself breathe again, his pulse settling to a manageable beat.

“It’s over there,” he murmured, pointing with his forefinger. He peered across the road, a little surprised to see not the dark-haired apprentice or Oikawa serving customers, but a girl with blonde hair tied back with a polka dot bow.

“She’s kinda cute!”

“What?”

“The waitress,” Kuroo said. He parked up and opened his door. “I feel the sudden urge for a brownie and a cup of coffee.”

“You bastard. You said you wouldn’t embarrass me.”

“I won’t,” Kuroo said, putting on a pained expression. “But I’m allowed to say hello, aren’t I?”

“You are not to disrupt his staff, okay!” He scowled at Kuroo, hoping it would warn him off, not that Kuroo ever did anything bad, but he was sarcastic at times, and had been known to leave grown men in tears with his whiplash of a tongue.

Locking the car, Kuroo stuck his hands in his pockets, and stepped into the road. “Naw, she’s a darling, I won’t be mean.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s sweet, he’s looking out for you. Mmm, not bad.”

“What?  Who?” Daichi’s gaze followed Kuroo’s to the shop window. “Oh, no, that’s his business partner.” Oikawa was staring out of the window, a smile flitting across his face when he saw Daichi, then his eyes widened when he realised he wasn’t alone. His head turned, clearly he was calling out to someone, and as Daichi walked into the shop he wasn’t entirely surprised to see the Hajime sitting at a table.

“Great tournament yesterday!” he exclaimed. Getting to his feet, he wiped his hands down his trousers, he gave a small bow as he glanced at Kuroo. “Saw the Cats, too. Bad luck against the Owls. It was close.”

Kuroo shrugged. “We’re a young team and we’re tryin’ out new things. Be different when the season starts.” He paused and smiled at Hajime. “So, you’re Suga-san, are ya? Sawamura didn’t tell me you were a volleyball fan.”

“Koushi?  Him?” Oikawa yelped with laughter. “Sawa-chan, what have you been saying to your friend?” He stepped a little closer and inclined his head in an almost bow, keeping his eyes trained on Kuroo. “Take a seat both of you, and I’ll get our waitress to take your order. On the house, naturally.”  A smile twitched on his lips. “Tetsurou Kuroo, I’ve been a fan of the Cats for –”

“About twenty-two hours,” Iwaizumi interjected. He snorted as he moved around the table. “I’ll get Suga for you, shall I? Oikawa, you get the guys a coffee, you can’t leave everything to Yacchan – she’s busy serving your other customers.”

 

Suga was halfway down the stairs when Hajime reached him. Having seen Daichi arrive, because he’d been peeking through his lounge curtains, he’d spent an extra few moments checking his reflection, specifically his teeth in case anything was stuck in them, and then ran his fingers through his hair. He scowled at his ahoge, which refused to lie flat, then tucked his shirt into his shorts, before deciding he looked like a five year old dressed by his mom and pulled it out.

“Suga, he’s here. You might want to come down before Oikawa decides to teach them how to play volleyball.”

“Them?” Oh, there had been another guy. Taller, he thought. But he’d not really paid much attention because he’d wanted to check what Daichi was wearing in case he should change.

“Yeah,” Hajime muttered. “Don’t panic, it doesn’t look as if he’s joining you, he was asking for brownies or something and has sat down, but Dai-chan’s remained standing and refused coffee.”

“All right. Here we go.” He sniffed, and then focused on Hajime, and the object hanging from his neck. “Why have you got your camera? Please don’t tell me Tooru’s coerced you into taking photographs.”

“Please, do I look as if I could be coerced?” Hajime replied. “I was taking photographs at Takeru’s party, okay?”

“Ah, right.”  Suga huffed out a breath, feeling a little abashed. “Do I look okay?” he whispered.

“Uh ... yeah ... sure,” Hajime replied, grimacing. “Please, Suga, I am not good at these clothes conversations. Do you want me to fetch Oikawa instead?”

“Good god, no. He’ll make me buy a whole new wardrobe.” He squared his shoulders. “Right, I’m ready.... I think... Shit, am I?  Did I clean my teeth? I could change into something less casual, but I don’t want to make it look as if I thought too hard. But then again, does this look as if I made no effort, and don’t care?”

Hajime yanked his sleeve. “For fuck’s sake, calm down. He’s asked you out, Suga, and considering the last time he was here, he saw you in pants with cupcakes all over them, I don’t think clothes are a deal breaker for him.”

Suddenly feeling as if this was a ‘meet the parents’ situation, Suga made another attempt to flatten his hair, tried to quell his nerves, and followed Hajime. But just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he tugged on his arm.

“Yes, you look fine,” Hajime muttered, without looking.

Suga tugged harder. “It’s not that. Do you mind letting me go first?  This is like you’re the father of the bride.”

Hajime grinned at him, then after ruffling his hair (causing Suga to scowl because now it would be even fluffier) he stood to the side. With no more excuses, Suga fixed what he hoped was a cheery smile on his face, and pushed the door to the shop open.

Daichi was the first person he saw. And as soon as he saw him, his nerves melted away.  It could have had something to do with the casual clothes Daichi was wearing, because he wasn’t the corporate well-heeled man who’d strode across the road and got himself covered in sugar. Nor was he the imposing volleyball Captain who’d lit up his television screen only yesterday, or even the sensei with healing hands who’d worked such magic on his back.

Instead, it was someone who looked just as nervous as Suga, and just as irritated that they appeared to be getting a send off from their friends. And as Suga approached, he gave him a grin – his beautiful lopsided grin that rendered him a little goofy – and Suga smiled back.

“Ready?” Daichi said, his voice quite faint, as if someone had punched him in the chest.

Praying his knees would hold him up and he could at least walk straight to the door, Suga ignored Tooru who was pulling sappy faces and nodded.  “Yes. Let’s go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos. I'm overwhelmed by everything, so yay!
> 
> (Wonders if this chapter will produce another Mark Evans moment - :D)


	5. (Fun) Fairy Cakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daichi wins Suga a prize and everything appears to be going well ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice a reference to something here. One of my favourite somethings in the manga ...

The festival Daichi had in mind was a short walk away. He’d asked Suga if he wanted to take a cab, and Suga did offer to drive, but in the end, as the afternoon was balmy and there were no rainclouds in sight, they agreed walking would be good.

But it was a little awkward. Not that Daichi expected it to be all honey and fluff, and it wasn’t that he was uncomfortable, but being alone with Suga (okay, there were other people on the streets) he found himself suddenly tongue tied. And deeply embarrassed.

_What kind of guy brings his mate along on a date?_   He cringed thinking about it.

“Sorry!” Suga blurted out.

“Uh ... what?” Daichi faltered, and for the first time since they’d left the cafe he looked Suga straight in the eye. _Wow, he has beautiful eyes._

“About Tooru and Hajime being around. I mean, obviously Tooru would have been because we’ve decided to open as it’s a festival day, but he dragged Hajime in as well. Not that I think Hajime needed to be persuaded because he’s a huge volleyball fan and I think he can’t quite believe you visited the shop and-”

“Suga, stop!” Daichi touched him lightly on the shoulder. “It really doesn’t matter.”He shrugged and grimaced a little bashfully. “I wanted to say sorry for turning up with Kuroo. He gave me a lift, and I tried to make him leave, but he’s a wind- up merchant, and then he was offered coffee ... so ...”

“Oh, is that who he was?” Suga’s cheeks dimpled. “Tooru took one look and decided he supported the Cats yesterday.”

Daichi twitched the side of his mouth and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Kuroo has that effect on a lot of people. He’s ... _charismatic_ , and pulls in the crowds.”

“Not me,” Suga replied, and flashed him a quick grin. “I _think_ I like the Crows. Their captain is very hands -” He gave a bit of a wink. “He’s very hands _on_.”

After that, they were both at ease. Daichi moved closer, and although they didn’t link fingers, there was the occasional brushing of arms where Suga didn’t move away.  

“How’s your back now?” he asked.

Suga rotated his hips. “Much better,” he replied. “Honestly, you really helped me. Usually, even with the medication, I’m hobbling for a couple of days.”

He tried to ask more questions, but the sight of Suga’s shirt gaping as he moved, displaying –again – the cluster of moles on the side of his back, caused a constriction in his throat. Unbidden, he wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

_Shit, shit, get a grip!_

“Are you okay?”Suga was staring at him curiously.

He blinked. “Uh, yeah, fine. So, does it happen a lot? You putting your back out, I mean.”

“Um, I guess every few months. Lot less recently.” He stifled a yawn then screwed up his nose. “I have exercises I should do, but I get complacent and ...” He shot Daichi an apologetic look, his eyes wide, and the constriction was back. “I have other things to do in the mornings than go for a jog.”

“Really?” Daichi managed to reply, amazed he sounded semi-human and wasn’t rasping like a dog.

“Work mainly,” Suga continued, his tone innocent. “Sleep, if I can get it.”

Intent on keeping himself focused (and not thinking at all about Suga sleeping in the mornings) Daichi switched the conversation to exercise, suggesting yoga instead.

“Or swimming,” he said. “Very good for the back. Your core strength would improve in no time. It’s one of the best exercises there is, especially...” He trailed off, noticing Suga’s chin was down. “Sorry, I’m boring you.”

“You’re not. I promise,” Suga said, and sighed. “You’re a sportsman and passionate about fitness. I ... um ... like that.”

There was something else going on, Daichi thought, so although he was grateful for the compliment, and heartened when Suga again smiled at him, he wondered at Suga’s sudden introspection.

But wonder was all he could do because the next moment a balloon floated by, red with a string attached, and as they watched it, Daichi heard a small boy yelling as he ran towards it.

“My ballooooooon!”

The figure following, older and with silver hair, tried to grab him, but the boy slipped away. “Sholto, come back!  It’s going into the road. SHOLTO!”

Daichi leapt, clutching at the string just before the balloon was swept along by the breeze.  “Here you go,” he said, leaning over the stocky little boy, who stared rather gormlessly up at him.

“Thank you!”the boy grasped the balloon, holding it to his chest. “I didn’t mean to let go, but my hand was slippy.”

“Maybe,” Suga added, and crouched down so he was looking in the boy’s eyes, “you could tie it round your wrist.”

“That’s what I told him,” wheezed the lady. She came to a halt. “Suga-kun, what are you doing out of your shop? You haven’t closed, have you? We were about to stop for cake.”

“Fujuiko-san,” he said, flustered as he stood up and offered a bow. “Um ... no, Tooru’s there and Yacchan.”

“You do take days off, then?” she remarked as she glanced at Daichi. “This boy works too hard.”

“Really?  He’s been telling me he’s terminally lazy.”

“He tells _me_ he can’t take time off, not even to meet my granddaughter,” she complained. The next moment, she pulled a picture out of her handbag.  “And she’s a beautiful girl, look.”

A girl stared up at Daichi, the sort of girl his parents kept trying to introduce him to whenever he went back to visit. Shining black hair, cut to her chin. Not too much make-up, clothes not too fashionable. Perfect daughter-in-law material.

They type he could never have been attracted to in a million years.

“Pretty,” he murmured. “I’m sure she’s a credit to you.”

“What do you do?” she asked, casting a quick glance back at Suga who was very obviously busying himself with tying the balloon around Sholto’s wrist.

“Me? Oh ... I play volleyball.”

She huffed a little at that, turning back to Suga. “He’s not in a steady job. And you’re too busy. Where’s Ami going to find a husband?”

Tweaking the ribbon into a bow, Suga straightened up. “There’s always Tooru-kun,” he said, his eyes glinting. “And ...  um ... Daichi, wasn’t Kuroo-san at the cafe when we left?”

Biting back the roll of laughter, Daichi nodded his head, adding in what he hoped was a serious voice, that ‘Kuroo-san was also a sportsman but worked in insurance, too.’

Satisfied with that, she patted him on the arm, then reached towards her grandson. “Come on, Sholto. Grandma needs to rest her feet. I’ll buy you a cupcake, if you can fit it in after all that candy. Suga-chan’s are superb, don’t you agree?” she demanded of Daichi.

“Oh ... uh ... yes. D-Delicious,” he stammered, hoping Suga couldn’t read minds. “Almost too good to eat.”

“He’s trying to teach me his ways. But I’m not sure works of art can be taught,” she said, waving as they bowed to her.

“You’re too kind,” Suga called, adding to Daichi, “I can always make more ... and better, too.”

Thinking guiltily of the untouched box in his fridge, Daichi sought to change the subject, noticing with relief the large banner over the entrance to the festival. “We’re here. Shall we go in?”

***

Suga would have liked to hold hands as they walked around together, but he couldn’t have everything, and as Daichi was attentive and funny, protesting but agreeing to go on everything Suga suggested – even the carousel with gaudily painted horses - he guessed that made up for the degree of reserve he exuded.

The only ride he actively baulked on was the high-speed waltzer, digging his heels in, before finally admitting that spinning made him dizzy. “I am a wuss on those things, and I really don’t think you want me throwing up on you. But go ahead. I’ll watch if you want to.”

“It’s fine. I ... um ... don’t like them much either.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Then why suggest it, Suga?”

“Ah, you might have wanted to go. You’re letting me choose everything, Daichi, and I’d hate you to be bored.”

 “I’m not bored, your enthusiasm is infectious, but how about we hit some of the stalls?”

So they did.  Daichi, as Suga expected, turned out to be a good shot and managed to win an inflatable guitar on the rifle range, which he handed over to a forlorn looking girl who’d failed to hit the target. Suga hooked three ducks and found himself in possession of a green and silver alien key ring, which he laughingly accepted on behalf of Tooru. For a brief second he thought he saw a small frown on Daichi’s face, but he must have imagined it because the next moment, he was pointing out the High Striker, where a queue of men and boys were waiting for their chance to win a giant stuffed toy.

“Last time I tried one of those, I was eighteen and trying to impress someone,” Daichi said.

“Did it work?”

“I swung back with all my strength and dropped the mallet on his foot, so ... er ... no.” He touched Suga lightly on small of his back. “I’ll make sure I don’t do that this time.”

“You’re trying to impress me?” he asked, surprised.

“Of course,” replied Daichi, and still touching him, he pushed Suga forwards. “Come on, I’m winning you that toy.”

“You don’t have to.”

He flapped his hand. “We’ll give the toy to a kid if you don’t want it, Suga.”

“I meant,” he murmured, subtly tweaking Daichi’s shirtsleeve, pulling him closer, but not so close it was obvious. He stared into his eyes. “I meant that you don’t have to impress me. You already have.”

He didn’t blush, at least Suga didn’t think he did, and it would have been hard to tell under the tan of his skin, but the left hand corner of his mouth twitched upwards and his hand began to rub the back of his neck. “Doesn’t stop me wanting to try,” he whispered.

The queue seemed to thin when Daichi joined it, and Suga wasn’t entirely sure why, but a few heads turned on seeing them. No one said a word, but there was a puzzled look on some faces, as if they were trying to place him.

_Oh, of course._

Stepping back a little, Suga stared at the floor, hunching his shoulders as he tried to look inconspicuous. Not that the queue were at all interested in him, except perhaps ...

He remembered Hajime yesterday telling him there were no rumours about Daichi, so his reserve made sense because he’d like to keep it that way. An oddly public place for a first date, but maybe he thought brazening it out meant less likelihood of being discovered. In a place lacking any intimacy, Daichi and he were invisible as a couple.

“Suga?”

His eyes flicked upwards. Daichi was now at the head of the queue. “It’s my go. Wish me luck, yeah?”

He couldn’t help but agree, and walked closer, standing right behind him. “Of course.”

“Not there,” Daichi said.

“Oh, sorry!” he mumbled, mortified.

But Daichi, to his surprise, just chuckled. “I don’t want to drop this on _your_ foot, either,” he joked.

There was a murmur around them, a small rumbling of voices, a few whispers of ‘Is it him?’ and then the fairground worker handed over the mallet, and declared, “Roll up, roll up. We have Sawamura Daichi here, one of Tokyo’s finest volleyball players, or Dai-chan as you all know him. Come and see the Crow in action. Let’s see if he can-”

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” Daichi muttered, low so only Suga could hear him. He accepted the mallet, nudged Suga away from him, and then gave him a wink. “Pick your prize, Suga-chan.”

With a slight gulp, feeling all eyes turn to him, Suga took his cue from Daichi and copied his attitude. Head up, he fixed a beam on his face.

Daichi fumbled, missing the lever instead whacking the mallet on the grass. The crowd laughed, and he held his hand up, accepting their jeers.

“Brazilians take it out of you, did they, Dai-sama?” mocked the worker. “Thought you had the strongest arms in the game.”

“Best of three, isn’t it?” Daichi asked mildly.

“Yup. Reckon you can hit the target this time?”

“I’ll give it a-”  Before he finished his sentence, he slammed down the mallet, this time hitting the apparatus plum in the middle. The puck shot upwards, and a resounding clang rang out around them. “Go,” Daichi finished, and as the crowd began to cheer, he took a bow. “What do you want, Suga?”

“Um ...” He’d not even looked, too intent on watching Daichi’s muscles rippling through his arms. “The ... uh ... that thing,” he said wildly.

“The bear?”

“No ... the ... um ... pink ...”

“Really?” the fairground worker queried, but all the same, he reached up to the top of his stall with his hook, and pulled the toy down. “I’ve ‘ad this a while, and no one ever wanted it before. ‘Ere you go, one shrimp.”

“What?  Oh ...” Suga clutched the soft toy, which was, now he could see it properly, a huge pink shrimp with a curled body, and antennae waving in the breeze. “This ... uh ...”

“What’s that?  You did say the pink toy.”

“Yes ... yes...” He snorted and backed away, turning his face to Daichi. “Shall we go?”

“Why is it,” Daichi muttered as they sidled away from the stall, “that I get the impression you didn’t realise you were getting a giant shrimp?”

“I thought it was a pig,” he whispered back.

“And that’s better?” he asked gravely.

Suga wrinkled up his nose. “Of course. Pigs are cool. They rootle for truffles and have that cute snout thing going on.”

“Truffles?” Daichi shrugged, slowing his pace a little to allow a group of kids to run past. “Never had one. Are they good?”

“Delicious. Well, the one time I’ve sampled them.” Suga sighed, tilting his head to the right as he remembered. “We used truffle oil at college and truffle vodka, which gives the taste, but actual truffles are far too expensive for students to experiment with. Tooru made something for his final exam with them, but he’d bought everything himself. It worked, he got a distinction.”

Daichi stared straight ahead, and to Suga it looked as if he wanted to ask something, but was not quite sure if he should.

“What did _you_ get?” he asked after a while.

“Me? Oh.” He gnawed his lower lip. “I didn’t actually graduate. There was ... uh ... well, it was the accident, the one where I hurt my back, it happened in our final year. I could have retaken the year, I was told I was stupid not to, but ... well ... the opportunity arose to open the shop, and as that was what I actually wanted to do ... why wait?”

Giving him a side glance, Daichi chuckled. “Sounds like me. I had just under a year to go, and was told volleyball would wait, and it wasn’t a secure career, you know all that sort of thing, but I wouldn’t listen.” He paused, scuffing his feet along the grass. “Want to do anything else?”

“Um ...” He looked around, checking out the stalls they’d not visited, and the way the crowds were gathering. It was hot, even though the sun was lower in the sky, and he could feel his shirt sticking to him. “Do you mind if we sit for a while?”

Agreeing, they sauntered across to a stretch of grass near a line of cherry trees, walking to the end of the row furthest away from the fair and the crowds. “Is here okay?” Daichi asked. “Would you prefer more shade? I’ll ... uh ... get a drink, if you’d like?”

“Something cold would be good. I can’t drink on this medication, so just water for me, please, but don’t let that stop you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “After last night, I’m not drinking either. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

Watching Daichi as he jogged back across the field, Suga was again struck by his physique, and the fact that in the heat of the afternoon, he barely broke a sweat. Whereas he, in this weather, was no doubt as pink in the face as the shrimp he was currently in possession of.

“Ugh! You’re punching way above your weight this time, Koushi-chan,” he mocked himself, and shuffled back to sit in the shade.

Daichi returned at a steadier pace carrying two bottles of water, and something pink. As he got closer, Suga sat up and chuckled because he could see it was candyfloss on a stick, the kind that made your teeth rot looking at it, but was still so, so good.

“I know you probably spend your life eating sweet things, but I’m a sucker for this stuff,” Daichi explained. He held out the stick, and Suga peeled off a wodge of the floss, letting it disappear on his tongue.

“This is different though,” he said. “No nutritional value whatsoever... perfect. Makes me feel like a kid again.”

“Me, too. Help yourself to more.”

As they sat, sipping water, eating candyfloss, and exchanging the odd remark, Suga couldn’t help but feel utterly at ease. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was because Daichi had already seen him at his worst on the bathroom floor, or perhaps Daichi was one of those people you automatically felt safe with, but the longer they sat together, Suga felt himself unfurling like a flower in the morning.

The sun dipped lower, taking some of the heat out of the day, so arranging the shrimp behind him, Suga stretched out to soak up the last remaining rays.  It was as he lay down, that his hand came into contact with Daichi’s arm. And not quite knowing what he was doing, he let it linger, his fingers softly touching Daichi’s bicep, feeling the warmth of his skin. He heard an intake of breath and came to.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, horrified, and snatched his hand away. “I’m really ... you don’t ... not ... here.”

“It’s fine.” Daichi’s voice was slow and not at all annoyed, and then, in a move that surprised Suga, he lay back on the grass, his head on the shrimp, and covered Suga’s hand with his. “This is nice.”

“Yes.” Suga swallowed, or tried to, but there seemed to be a knot in his throat, restricting his breath and any thoughts, except that the man next to him was holding his hand, his thumb was caressing the underside of his hand.

“Suga, are you okay?”

“Mmm.” He opened his eyes, turned his head to the side and stared into Daichi’s deep brown concern-filled and very beautiful eyes. “I thought this might be a bit public for you.”

“Ah, yeah, I guess, but ...” Exhaling, he stared up at the sky, but he didn’t remove his hand. “I kind of came out to my team yesterday. I mean, some of them knew, but ... uh ...”

“When you were ... um ... drunk?”

He shook his head. “No, it was after you’d texted. I told them all you were cute.”

Suga edged a little closer. “Is it a problem?”

“Don’t know. Probably not. Don’t really care, to be honest, not at the moment.” He smiled across at Suga. “I guess we need to be discreet. Bad place for a first date, sorry.”

‘ _First_ date.’  That sounded promising. “I’m having fun,” Suga said. “And I understand. You wanted somewhere public because somewhere like a bar looks more suspicious.”

“Huh?” He frowned a bit. “Oh ... no, I chose the festival because, well, I thought that if you wanted to bail, you could leave easily.”

“Bail? Why would I want to do that?”

“I dunno. Stuck with a jock all day isn’t everyone’s idea of fun. And we don’t really know each other yet.”

Suga laughed. “That’s half the fun. The not knowing, I mean.”

“Yeah, it is,” Daichi breathed. “Kind of wish I’d stuck to the bar idea, though, because I ... uh... it would be nice to be somewhere a little more private.”

_Oh ... interesting. Sounds as if he means that._

From out of nowhere, Tooru’s face flashed in his mind. He was staring intently, a twist to his lips – the prelude to flirting.

_Tooru always had a good success rate_ , he thought.

“My most favourite cake,” Suga murmured, pleased his voice had held its level tone. “The one I’m _best_ at making, is a Sachertorte.  They take a long time to cook at a low temperature, and it’s even better if you leave them a day or two before cutting.”

“Are you saying I’m a cake?” Daichi asked, knotting his brows together.

Breaking off some more candyfloss, Suga fed some to Daichi, laughing when a wisp of it stuck to his cheek. “No, I’m saying that some things are worth waiting for.”

“Not too long, I hope.” Daichi said, sounding nervous.

_Go for it, Koushi-chan._

 Suga ever-so-slightly licked his upper lip and tried a pout. “At this temperature,” he replied huskily, “I don’t think it will take long to ... cook.”

“Your cake, you mean?” Daichi looked perplexed, his head flicking around. “Shit, sorry, do you need to get back?”

“Oh ... N-no, Um ...” Oh hell, this is what happened when he tried to be smooth. _Dammit, Tooru, why do I listen to your shitty one-liners?_ “Not the cake,” he said, and feeling his face flush what he assumed was a hideous shade of pink, he turned away. “Ignore me, I’m ... um ... Oh lord, I was flirting, obviously very badly.”

He heard a snort and then felt a hand tugging at his waist. “I’m kidding,” Daichi said. “And you’re not at all bad at flirting. I’m just not used to it.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Suga said, and buried his face in the shrimp.

“Kuroo says flirting with me is like flirting with the tallest of volleyball walls.” Daichi said, and tugged harder until Suga rolled back towards him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he muttered, not wanting to think at all about the tall guy that Daichi had turned up with flirting with him.

“I block everything. So ... um ... people don’t bother. Kuroo reckons I have this ingrained fu ... uh ...‘get lost’ expression.”

Suga’s lips twitched. “’Get lost expression’?  Really?”

“Well, the exact phrase is ...” He stopped speaking, quirked an eyebrow, and pulled his mouth into a thin-lipped smirk as he stared down at Suga.  “‘Sawamura, yer wearin’ yer ‘fuck off’ face again, no wonder you ain’t getting no action.’”  Then he gulped and screwed up his eyes. “They’re his words, not mine, I promise. But there, you see what I mean? I am very bad at this flirting and date stuff.”

Suga grinned up at him, then poked him in the stomach. “How about we finish our drinks and this candyfloss and just talk instead?”

***

 

It was later, about an hour or so, when the trees’ shadows were lengthening and the sun had taken its heated sting out of the day that Daichi hauled Suga to his feet. They’d talked- Suga deciding a game of twenty questions was in order, so they could find out all manner of inconsequential things about each other.

 “I had a cat called Sooty and two goldfish as a kid. Well, one goldfish, the other was my sister’s.”

“You’re not an only child, then?”

“Ah- you just wasted a question, sensei,” Suga teased. “Yes, I have two sisters. One’s a year older and the other is ten years younger. And you?”

“One brother. He’s still in High School. He’s the brains of the family, heading for medical school, so my parents don’t feel they’ve completely failed.”

Suga stopped his teasing. “Failed?”

“They weren’t happy about me dropping out of college,” Daichi said, affecting lightness. “Haven’t quite come to terms with me being a pro. I might be doing okay, but it’s not a ‘secure’ career.”He felt himself shrug, trying to lighten the weight, and clear the cloud threatening to destroy his day. “Ah, let’s not talk about this. Ask me something else... anything you want.”

“What shall we call this toy?” Suga asked, his voice matter-of-fact, but his hand had crept back into Daichi’s. “It needs a name.”

Grateful, he pretended to think. “Um ... Shrimpy?  He looks like one.”

“That could be because he is a shrimp, though.”

“Yes, and he’s emphasising that point because he’s proud of his heritage.”

Suga snorted, and wrinkled his nose. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Hey, _I_ didn’t think it was a pig!”

“Good point.” He shivered a little, and that was when Daichi got to his feet.

“Come on, let’s find somewhere warmer. There are cafes nearby or ...” He held out his hand to Suga, hauling him to his feet before bending down to pick up the shrimp.

“Or what?” Suga asked.

“We get something here, and if you’re not too cold, then we could stay for the fireworks.”

He was rewarded with a smile, not the mega-watt dazzle of a smile, but something close to it as Suga considered, then nodded. “Fireworks, yes, I’d like that.”

Sipping piping hot coffee, they wandered across the fields. It was still busy, the place buzzing with couples and young families, eager to join the festival fun. Yet the darkness cloaked them in a degree of anonymity, and Daichi found himself reaching for Suga’s hand as they waited for the show to start. He didn’t flinch, or shy away, but slid his palm into Daichi’s, with no reservation.  He could feel his breathing get easier, the shoulders he hadn’t even realised were tense started to unknot, and although he knew this was stupid, that it was far too early, and he shouldn’t make any sort of assumption, Daichi couldn’t help but think how right it all felt being with Suga. How natural.

“I should warn you-” Suga started to say, turning towards him.

But just at that moment, the first firework exploded into the sky. Suga shrieked, leapt in the air (sending his half- drunk coffee to the ground) and cannoned into Daichi.

“What the-?”

“Uhm ...” He peeped up at Daichi, struggling not to laugh. “I was about to warn you that loud bangs take me by surprise,” he said, utterly failing to keep the giggles at bay.  “I’m so sorry. Did I throw coffee on you?”

“You missed.” Daichi snorted, and gripped his hand tighter. “Are you going to do that all the time?”

“Um, no, I’ll be all right now I know they’re ... AGHHH!” he yelled again as a rocket sped high above them, then turned his face to Daichi. “I know I can do this. Please, I’m not really this much of a wimp.”

“It’s fine.” Daichi grinned at him. “You can hide behind me if you want. Or ...” Raising his hands, he placed them over Suga’s ears. “That better?”

“Sorry, can’t hear a thing!”

“I said ...” He peered round at Suga, noticing him still laughing. “Ha ha, very funny!”

“Pardon!”

“Stop it!”

“What?”

“STOP!”

Suga’s shoulders were shaking, soft trembles against Daichi’s body, and the way they were standing now, this close and touching, it was all Daichi could do to keep his attention on the fireworks and not the nape of his neck where it flared into his back.

“Or what?” Suga questioned, tilting his face sideways. “What will you do if I don’t stop?”

Another firework went off, several probably, but Daichi wasn’t aware of them, except that they illuminated Suga’s hair and his profile against the evening sky. Swallowing hard, he dropped his hands, stuffing them firmly into his pockets.

“Have I annoyed you?” the question was tentative, asked minutes later when there was a lull in the display.

“Not at all,” Daichi muttered.

“Did I take the joke too far?” Suga asked, his eyes downcast. He touched Daichi’s arm. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“I _have_ annoyed you, haven’t I? You’ve gone all stern and broody looking.”

“Suga... stop it,” Daichi said. “It’s ... just ...”

“Have I ruined the fireworks? Sorry, I’ll try and keep quiet.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” He reached out, plucking Suga’s hand again, and pulled him a little closer, lowering his mouth to whisper. “I kind of wish we were alone. I’d like to kiss you, but here is ... too public. Sorry.”

With a widening of his eyes, Suga gazed at him, and Daichi was lost, words unable to form in his throat.

“We don’t have to watch the fireworks from here,” he whispered back, and tugging on Daichi’s hand, he took a step away, heading out of the crowd.

Daichi followed, snaking his way through the throng. And within minutes, they found themselves at the side of the field, not near the trees, where they’d been before, but around the back of some of the stalls.

“See,” Suga said, his voice quivering as he ducked sideways behind the shooting range, “we can still watch everything from here.”

“Yeah... not sure I’m at all bothered about fireworks now,” he replied.

_Oh my god._ He licked his lips, then stopped thinking it made him look perverted as if he wanted to eat Suga, which he did sort of .... no. _Hell, why am I so nervous? It’s not as if this is my first time, but I’m shaking like a school kid on a date._

“So ... Daichi ... um ... how do we?”

_He’s as nervous as me._ He blew out between his teeth, then took Suga’s hand. “How about we see what happens?” he muttered as he bent his head towards him, preparing to start with a gentle kiss on his lips.

Just then, Suga flipped sideways, and Daichi’s mouth missed, connecting instead with the shrimp Suga was still holding. It happened exactly at the same moment that Daichi was aware of a crash and a shuffling sound. The unmistakeable sound that they weren’t alone, that someone was watching. He jerked backwards, just as Suga pushed him away.

“Shit, what’s that?” he hissed.

“Don’t know,” Daichi said warily. “Maybe there’s a dog in that corner.”

“No ...” Suga’s voice was anxious, and he stepped closer to where the sound had come from. “It’s a person, and ... uh ... I think I heard my name.  Who’s there?  Come out!”

“Are you sure?” Daichi whispered.

“Not really, but it sounded,” Suga kept his voice raised. “It sounded like someone was saying ‘Suga-san’.”  And then he leapt over to what Daichi could only make out as a heap of clothes and a box, and grabbed something.  “Who’s-” He gasped, and let go, but not before the person he’d found had yelped and fallen backwards. “Kageyama-kun, what are you doing here?”

Even in the dark, Daichi could make out the thinner figure of Suga’s apprentice staring at the pair of them. He was scowling, Daichi could tell that, and from what he recalled, this was his usual expression, but there was something else. He was trembling, too.

“Suga-san...” he started to say, getting to his feet.

“Kageyama, what are you doing here?”

“F-festival,” he stammered. “I ... uh ... it’s my day off, so I th-thought I’d come and see the f-fireworks.”

“From behind a stall?” Daichi interrupted and stepped towards the pair of them. “Were you following Sugawara-san? Wanted to get a picture or something? Is that what it-”

“NO!” Kageyama yelped, taking a step backwards. “Please, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Daichi, stop!” Suga ordered, and raised his hand, pressing it firmly onto Daichi’s chest. He eyed Kageyama, then his attention flickered to the motley collection on the floor. “Kageyama-kun, that’s a sleeping bag.”

“Not mine. I f-found it here.”

Suga ignored him. “And that’s a carrier bag with your work clothes in. Now, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not _nothing_. What is going on?” In the dark, under the moonlight, Suga’s face was incredibly pale, luminescent and fragile looking. But the tone in his voice belied such fragility and Daichi saw for the first time a vein of steel running through him.  “Are you homeless, Kageyama-kun?”

He shook his head- furiously.”No, no. Not at all. I have a room. My landlady is ... fine. I pay rent. It’s all-”

“Then I can give you a lift back,” Suga said, and reaching out, he took Kageyama by the arm.

Shaking his head, the boy flinched under his touch, and clearly shocked, Suga dropped his hand. His eyes flickered to Daichi.

“Kageyama-kun,” Daichi began, not really knowing what was expected, but there was something about the boy, something hopeless in his eyes, that wrung at him. “May I call you that?” He nodded. “I’m sorry I shouted at you. Will you let Sugawara-san help you?”

“Don’t need help. I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not,” Suga said firmly, and crouching down he poked around in the carrier bag. “You say you’re not homeless, but you’ve brought your possessions to a festival.”

“One night,” Kageyama muttered, and held up his bag. “I was on my way back from the laundrette, when I realised I’d lost my key, a-and the landlady is away.”

“And you plan to sleep out here?” Suga flashed Daichi a sideways look, half apologetic, half in disbelief. “I won’t let you.”

“It’s warm.”

Placing his hands on his hips, Suga frowned. “Kageyama, you’re my employee and as such I have a responsibility towards you. I cannot possibly leave you to sleep in a field. You’re coming back to Sugoi, and you can take the sofa.”

“I c-can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Let me rephrase that. You _will_.”

_Which I guess means we’re leaving now_ , Daichi thought. He sighed inwardly, but although it meant the date was now curtailed, he knew there was no option. The way the boy had reacted, the way he wouldn’t meet Suga’s eyes, left Daichi in no doubt that he couldn’t go back to his room – at least not that night.  He bent down, picked up Kageyama’s sleeping bag, and nodded to Suga.

“Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to come with us,” Suga replied, then turning his face away from Kageyama, he added, “I can’t leave him here, you do understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah, course I do. I’ll help you get him back, okay?”

“Stay for coffee, yes?”

His fingers touched Daichi’s arm, warm and soft, and lingering a little. Instinctively, Daichi tilted his head down to peck him on the cheek, but hearing the rustle of Kageyama’s bag as he gathered his possessions, he drew back. “Coffee would be good,” he said. “But I won’t stay long.  I think you need to talk to him, and it’s probably better if I’m not there.”

“Sorry,” Suga whispered. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for the end of our date.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Daichi murmured. “He’s part of your team, and that’s something I do understand.”

 

They walked back hurriedly, which had not been the way Daichi had envisaged (hand in hand, or maybe with his arm slung over Suga’s shoulders, stopping for the occasional kiss or ...) but Suga obviously felt the need to get Kageyama back to the shop quickly, perhaps because he feared he’d change his mind. But to Daichi looking on, all he could see was a certain relief from the young boy, although it was tinged with embarrassment, evident from the way he kept shuffling his feet and stammering out one word answers to the questions Suga gently fired at him.

The shop was closed, and as Suga unlocked, calling out that he was back, the three of them were greeted with silence.

“Hajime must have ordered Tooru to leave,” Suga said, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “He’s the only person who can keep him under control.”

“He won’t-” Kageyama faltered.

“Won’t what?” Suga asked.

“Oikawa-san won’t want me being here,” he muttered, still not looking Suga in the eye. His eyelids flickered, and then he hunched his shoulders, holding his bag across his chest. “I can’t stay.”

“It’s my flat as much as Oikawa-san’s,” Suga replied. And not giving Kageyama a chance to react, he pushed the door closed behind them and nudged his arm. “Go upstairs, Kageyama-kun. Freshen up, use the shower or have a bath if you want, and we’ll talk about this over some food.”

“B-but you’re...” He stared at Suga, then switched his attention to Daichi.

“Gay?” replied Suga snappishly. “Yes, I am. If you think that’s the only reason I- ”

“No ... No ...” Kageyama’s face blanched, and then a crimson wave flooded his face, horrified it seemed by the possibility he’d insulted his employer. Someone that even Daichi, who didn’t know him well, could see Kageyama admired immensely. “I don’t want to intrude, Sugawara-san,” he muttered, and bowed low to them both.

Guiltily, Suga bit his lip. His cheeks were pink, and there was a small amount of shame in his glance to Daichi. _What have I done?_ his eyes beseeched.

Shifting the sleeping bag from under his arm, Daichi held it out to Kageyama. “Hey, kid, you go upstairs and make yourself comfortable. And don’t worry about us. There’ll be other times... I hope.”

He didn’t miss Suga’s flash of a smile, and winked at him, a little bashfully before suddenly deciding his hands were interesting and needed to be examined.

“Mmm, I hope so too,” Suga murmured. Then after clearing his throat, he walked Kageyama to the door of the flat, and pushed him towards the stairs. He hesitated at the bottom, before directing a look back at Daichi. “Wait here, will you? I’ll see he’s settled, and then make the two of us some coffee. Is that okay?”

“That’s absolutely okay. I’ll ... um ... take a seat.”

Flicking one small light on at the back of the shop, Suga left Daichi and followed Kageyama up the stairs, his footsteps lighter than the trudge of his apprentice. He wandered to back of the shop, hands in his pockets smirking at Shrimpy who Suga had placed on one of the silver cake platters.

“What’s a good looking crustacean like you doing here?” he quipped. “Or are you a mollusc? Can’t say I know the difference.”

Shrimpy stared back at him, then as a car sped past outside, causing the windows to rattle and sending a vibration through the shop, he slumped to the floor.

“Drunk again?” Daichi asked. “All that sea water gone to your head. And in one so young, it’s a tragedy of Titanic proportions.”

Chuckling to himself (and wishing Suga was there to hear him because the jokes were kind of funny) he vaulted over the counter top.

It was as he settled Shrimpy back in the chair that he noticed the photographs on a pinboard. And he grinned, recognising Suga in his apron and chef’s hat. Another showed him with a group of men and women, all brandishing wooden spoons. _Classmates_ , he thought, and carried on checking the pictures.  Oikawa was in a few, not surprising he guessed, but his eyes narrowed all the same, until they rested on one.

_Oh._

“Coffee!” Suga breezed in, a tray in his hand with two cups on saucers and a cafetiere. “Kageyama’s having a bath. I’ve persuaded him to stay for at least tonight. I’m not entirely sure what the story is, but I think he’ll talk to me once he’s had some food. Anyway, he’s here and not sleeping in a field, and that’s what’s important. So ... would you like to stay for food, as well, or just the coffee?”

“Uh...” He grabbed his phone, holding it in front of him, like a shield. “Um, Suga, I’m really sorry, but Kuroo’s just called me. My friend, yeah, and ... uh ... he’s staying at mine and has locked himself out. I should go.”

The smile immediately vanished, and Daichi wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, but some of the sparkle in his eyes and the lustre in his cheeks seemed to have died, too.

“Um ... yes. Yes, of course. I’ll ... uh ...” His teeth gnawed his lip. “Are you sure you don’t want coffee?”

He winced, and faked weighing it up in his mind. “Better not. Sorry.”

“Oh.” He sounded sad and perplexed, but after blinking a little, he said a little wanly, “Another time, then?”

“Uh ... yeah, sure.”  Already kicking himself for making Suga miserable, he debated changing his mind, but he needed time away, time to cool off because he was scared of talking, scared of what he’d say, or hear. But he did want to see him again. “Yeah, definitely. Sorry. I’m kind of tied up this week with work and tryouts, but ... um ...”

“You have my number,” Suga mumbled. Placing the tray on a table, he headed towards the door. “I’ll ... um ... see you out.”

_Shit!_

Standing next to him, while Suga fumbled with the keys, Daichi was acutely aware of the awkwardness now descending. “Sorry,” he repeated.

“Can’t be helped.” He made a sound at the back of his throat something crackly and choking, then Suga coughed. “I had a lovely time,” he said, “Thank you.”

But the smile was too bright and didn’t reach his eyes.

And it would be so easy to take the lie back, to at least stay for coffee, and not have to stare at the slightly fuller bottom lip that had only stopped trembling because Suga had pressed both together.

“I _am_ sorry,” Daichi said, meaning it this time. “I really do have tryouts all next week, that’s why I thought we should go out today.”

“Yes... okay ... fine ...I’ll ... um...”  Flustered, Suga at last managed to get the key in the door, but just before he turned it, he broke off. “Before you go, I have something for you.”

He scampered to the back of the shop and for a moment, Daichi thought he was going to pick up the shrimp, but instead he ducked through a door. Emerging a few moments later, looking far more composed as if he’d taken a few steadying breaths, Suga approached him, a box in his hand.

“More cakes,” he said. “I ... um ... wanted to thank you again. It’s not much, but, well, it’s what I do.”

“Suga, you don’t have to,” Daichi said. “Honestly, the last box-”

“No take them, please,” he muttered, shoving the box in his hands. “I know you have a sweet tooth, so have them and enjoy.”

At that, Daichi couldn’t bear it any longer. With a small groan, he swooped down to kiss Suga. To plant at least one kiss on his petal blossom lips. And maybe linger.

But Suga had twisted away and all he kissed was air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has kudosed or commented on this fic. It is VERY much appreciated.


	6. Death by Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daichi realises he needs to make amends, but also receives some astounding news. 
> 
> And has Suga made a fatal error?

“So you didn’t get to kiss him?”

“I’ve already told you that,” Suga replied unhappily. “He left suddenly. And I really don’t know why.”

Tooru pursed his lips, glanced around the shop and fixed his eyes on Kageyama, who was setting up a table by the window. “Perhaps our useless apprentice cramped his style.”

Too miserable to make the effort to whack Tooru for insulting Kageyama, Suga considered, his face tilted to one side as he tried to recall exactly what had happened between him going upstairs, and reappearing with the coffee. “No, I don’t think so. Kageyama was in the flat, and Daichi said he’d stay for coffee.”

“And then he told you his friend had called.”

“Mmm.”

“But you hadn’t heard his phone ring, or any conversation?”

“I heard a conversation about shrimps,” Suga moped. “I was halfway down the stairs when I realised I’d forgotten the milk, so I had to go back.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Tooru mused. “He was clearly intent on staying then, so what, I wonder, changed his mind?”

“Me, obviously,” Suga muttered darkly.

“Impossible!” Tooru ruffled Suga’s hair, letting his fingers tease through the strands, pushing them back behind his ears. “You’re beautiful, Koushi-chan.  Hmm, maybe he was overwhelmed and -”

“Or maybe he realised how little we have in common and how annoying I can be because I talk too much!” Suga snapped and pushed Tooru away.

Tooru clasped his arm, refusing to let him walk away, not a tight grip, but the tender look in his eyes grounded Suga to the spot. “Do you honestly think Hajime and I have anything in common? We’re complete opposites, but that’s what makes it interesting.”

“That’s different,” mumbled Suga. “You have history holding you together.”

“And you have a lifetime ahead of you to make your own history!” Tooru declared and let go of his arm. Sighing, he moved behind the counter, intent on starting the napkins, but then he stopped midway through opening the laundry drawer.  “Where was he when you reappeared with the coffee?”

“Um ... about where you are, I guess,” Suga replied dully.

“Eureka!” Tooru twisted his head over his shoulder and gave Suga the glimmerings of a smile. “Shoulders-san has been paid a visit from the green-eyed monster.”

“What?”

Pointing to the pinboard, Tooru jabbed his finger on one photograph. An old photograph from five years before, when Suga was eighteen and fresh at college.

“It’s you and me,” he whispered, and stared at the picture.

“Pashing at a party, hands everywhere,” Tooru agreed. “My God, I’d forgotten that was up there.” Snorting, he unpinned it, tracing their faces with his fingertip. “We were a good looking couple, Koushi. No wonder he’s jealous.”

“But there’s no need to be. That’s from years ago!”

“Mmm, but if you look at your top, it’s very similar to the one you wore yesterday, isn’t it?  Sawa-chan might think this is recent. And I’m willing to bet that you haven’t told him anything about us.”

“Oh ... shit!  What am I going to do?”

“He’s jealous,” Tooru drawled, smirking as he leant towards him and flicked his nose. “So-oo, he _really_ likes you, Kou-chan. And that means he’ll be back, so ... do nothing.”

***

“Morning, Romeo,” Kuroo breezed.

“Why are you still here?” Daichi demanded, facing Kuroo’s cheery smile that didn’t deserve to be there _that_ early in the morning.

“I stayed over.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Didn’t I specifically tell you to fuck off?”

Kuroo helped himself to more bread, spreading thick with jam. “Uh-huh, but I figured you didn’t mean it.”

“How d’you work that out?” Daichi tried to snarl, but Kuroo’s languid assumption that he was needed took the bite out of his question.

“’Cause you were so pissed last night and stomped straight to bed, so I guessed you’d need someone to talk to in the morning. And I deserve a medal for sleepin’ on that uncomfortable sack of shit you call a sofa.”  He chewed a little more, then set down the bread on his plate. “Date went badly, huh? Wanna tell me about it?”

“Date was perfect,” he grumbled. “Suga’s perfect. It’s all fucking perfect... except -” The fight left him. Taking a seat, he helped himself to Kuroo’s coffee, taking a gulp before handing it back. “You met Oikawa, right?”

“Uh... yeah.” Kuroo snickered. “Quite the flirt. Oh! Did he try something on? Is that why you came back early?”

“Flirt?” Daichi frowned. “With Iwaizumi there?”

“Uh... yeah, and now I come to think of it, he was only flirty when the other guy was there? Like, they’re a couple, right?”

“Mmm, Suga says they live together?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Must be how he gets his kicks, trying to wind him up. Didn’t work. If anything, Iwaizumi got more interested in me.”

Choosing his next words carefully, because he knew the conclusions Kuroo would jump to (which probably weren’t as outlandish as the ones Daichi had been wrestling with all night) he leant back in his chair and tried to unclench his jaw. “Did they mention Suga, at all?”

“Not really.” Kuroo started to sip his coffee again. “Only when I asked ‘em questions.”

“YOU DID WHAT?”

Not even turning a hair, Kuroo placed his hand over his heart. “Hey, hey, it was the least I could do. No need to thank me.”

“What the fuck did you ask them?”

“The usual. What type of shampoo he used? What his job prospects were?” He grinned, ticking off his fingers. “Whether he was interested in you? And obviously I asked what positions he liked.”

“WHAT! KUROO, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!”

“All part of the service. He likes L’Oreal, he part owns the cafe, which is doin’ decent trade. He likes ya and ... yeah ... I didn’t really ask the other one, but I’m guessing he-”

Rising to his feet, not caring that he’d not only kicked away his chair, but had knocked Kuroo’s cup off the table, he grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him upwards. “You fucking arse. You piece of shit. How?  Why? What?  What the fuck were you thinking?”he snarled, almost incomprehensive with rage.

“He likes ya,” Kuroo repeated, not at all perturbed. “And Iwaizumi told me it was ‘about bloody time’ and Oikawa warned me that ‘Sawa-chan had better treat him right’. So, I don’t know what’s got your dick in a knot, but maybe you got the wrong end o’ the stick, Sawamura.”  Raising his hands, he prised Daichi’s fingers off his shirt, then sat back down, calmly mopping up the coffee with a tea towel.

Defeated, Daichi slumped in his chair. “There’s a photograph of him on their wall snogging Oikawa.”

“So, they had a bunk up. Don’t mean they’re doin’ it now. Oikawa’s pretty solid with that other guy, I reckon.”

“Suga talks about him a lot. And Oikawa’s the only one that calls him by his first name.” He winced a little. “Or an odd variation.”

“What’s in a name?”  Kuroo quoted, dismissing him with a wave of his hands. “They’re friends. Bet ya talk about me, don’t cha?”

“Why the hell would I talk about you?” Daichi retorted, then reconsidered. “Yeah, I guess you did crop up in conversation. But that’s only because we were talking about volleyball.”

“And what were you talking about when Sugawara mentioned Oikawa?”

“Uh...” He rubbed the back of his head. “The cake shop. And college. Shit!”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been a dick.”

“What’s new?” Kuroo said, under his breath.

“What shall I do?”

“Apologise. Take him out tonight.”

“Can’t. Got trials all this week and if I want to be taken as a serious contender for the captaincy, then I need to be there.”

“Then make another date, real soon.” He finished his bread, stretched and got to his feet. “I’m gonna grab a shower, then head off, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t leave it too long, dumbass.”

Fiddling with his phone, he debated what to type, but the trouble was everything sounded lame. Like, yeah, he could apologise for leaving early, but how did he explain why he’d left. He couldn’t very well come out and ask what Suga’s relationship was with Oikawa. Obviously they had been close at one point, but if he asked how recent that was, Suga could easily take the huff. _I would,_ he thought because the idea of flitting from one man to another in a couple of weeks was anathema to him. And what if that’s the way he works? What if Suga isn’t into monogamy? What if ...

“Oi, bone head!”

“What?”

Kuroo peeked round the door, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. “He likes ya, remember that.”

<<’Sorry I left so early last night.’>> he started to type, but it looked lame. What he needed was something better.

***

“Stop checking your phone,” Tooru reprimanded. “Put it upstairs.”

“But what if he texts?”

“Then you’ll see it later. But at the moment, all you’re doing is making yourself miserable. Plus, if it’s upstairs you won’t be tempted to text him.”

“And that’s a good thing, why?”

“Because you’ll stammer out some apology, that you don’t need to make and he’ll have the upper hand.”

“It’s not about hands,” Suga grumbled. “I want to know what went wrong. And if you’re right, and he really thinks the pair of us are still together, then I need to let him know he’s mistaken.”

Tooru’s lip twitched. “Or maybe he got so flustered about the idea of a ... _ménage a trois_ that he had to leave before he lost control of himself. Hmm, not sure I’d say no. Maybe Iwa-chan could be persu-”

“Get your mind out of the gutter!” Suga snapped. “He’s not like that.”

“Well, either way, he’s clearly not about to text you this early in the morning, so will you get on with the bread, before we fall massively behind, and I’ll do the notice board.”

“Kageyama’s already made the dough,” Suga replied. “It’s proving.”

“Not quite so useless, then,” Tooru muttered. “Was it fun having a sleepover with our adorable kouhai?”

“Fun isn’t the word. He barely spoke, but then I wasn’t the best conversationalist, either. ” He bit the side of his thumb, chewing at a hangnail. “I’m worried about him.”

“So you’ve said. But until he tells you what’s wrong, there’s nothing you can do, Koushi. Besides, it’s probably nothing. A spat over cleaning his room, or something. He’s barely eighteen and this was a dramatic gesture that he didn’t think through.”

“You didn’t see him last night. It’s a lot more than a dramatic gesture.” He paused, resting his chin on his hands. “What worries me is that I don’t know how long this has been going on for? What if he’s had more nights on the street?”

“You’re not going to let this drop, are you?” Tooru said, resigned it appeared.

“He’s part of our team,” Suga said wryly, remembering Daichi’s words of last night. “So that makes him our responsibility.”

“Fine.” Reaching for the notice board and chalk, Tooru lay it on the counter and set about writing the specialities they had for the day. “Weather’s going to be good again. Do you want to try your mini Baked Alaskas?”

“We could give it a whirl, and how about-”

“Tobio’s raspberry cupcakes,” he interrupted. “Yes, all right, I’ll add them, too.”

Suga kept the smile to himself, knowing Tooru was watching. He didn’t want to antagonise him, not even mildly, not when he needed Tooru onside when he tackled Kageyama. With a flick of his wrist, he smoothed out his apron, and wandered over to their apprentice, trying not to stare at the bruises he was sporting on his arm.

The only good thing, he mused, was that worrying about his kouhai had stopped him thinking about Daichi for a whole five minutes.

 

It was busy for a Monday, even taking into account that it was the school holidays, and Suga was grateful when Yachi turned up, all smiles and gratitude because she desperately wanted extra shifts.  A college student, she always carried a book with her to read during her breaks. She didn’t bake, had no ambitions in that direction, her head was stuck in literature and myths, Japanese and European.  But although she took her studies seriously, Yachi was a bright, cheerful girl, serving the customers coffee and cupcakes with her own brand of sunshine. 

 “Kageyama-kun, I didn’t see you this morning.  You must have left really early,” she said cheerily as she put her apron on.

“Oh ... I ... uh ...” He cast a desperate glance at Suga, not ashamed, exactly but secretive. “I wasn’t at home last night.”

“Ohhh, secret girlfriend,” she replied, giggling a little when Kageyama blushed.

“No,” he mumbled. “Just someone.”

“Ah, okay.” She glanced in the mirror, adjusting the hat. “Must have been nice to get away and have a good night’s sleep.”

Kageyama’s eyes quickly flicked to Suga then away. “Three lattes and two slices of carrot cake,” he muttered, handing over the order slip before heading outside to clear a table for a couple who’d recently arrived.

Seeing he was occupied, Suga seized his chance. “You live near Kageyama, do you, Yacchan?”

“Uh-huh. I have a room in the house next door,” she said. “Although, the way things are going I might move back to campus.”

“The way what things are going?” Suga asked.

Yachi groaned. “Oh, there’s a new guy moved into Kageyama’s house. He has a lot of parties, which are very noisy and go on into the night.” She yawned and blinked a few times. “I was up studying, but it was pretty hard to concentrate.”

“And the landlady hasn’t done anything?” Suga asked. “Kageyama’s, I mean, not yours.”

“Ah, well, that’s the problem,” Yachi said. “He’s her nephew, and whenever anyone complains, all she does is laugh and tell us he’s young and having fun.”  She wrinkled up her nose, then grimaced at her reflection. “Kimi-chan from Kageyama’s house left last week, and Sentori-san, who has the room below, tells me he’s moving out at the end of the month.”

“I see,” Suga murmured. Asking her to make the lattes, Suga cut two large slices of carrot cake. His eyes narrowed as he watched Kageyama. It explained the circles under his eyes, and the reluctance to leave on the evenings he didn’t have night school.

“Stop brooding on Shoulders-san,” Tooru called, nudging him as he stepped past.

“I’m not,” Suga replied. “I ... uh ... need to talk to you about something else.”

“Sounds ominous.” He surveyed Suga, his lips thinning. “Is this to do with our kouhai?”

“Mmm. I have an idea.”

 

 

The lunchtime rush was over, but any thought that Suga could grab Kageyama to the side for a chat, was thwarted when a visitor arrived. Quite short, wearing a baseball cap, he stepped almost hesitantly over the threshold and headed for a table near the counter. He stared around the cafe, locking looks with Kageyama who strode over to him.

“Yes!” he snapped.

Suga shook his head, saying under his breath, “‘May I take your order?’ Come on, it’s not that hard to be polite, is it?”

“No,” replied the customer, scratching his head, and dislodging the baseball cap to reveal messy red hair. “You’re _definitely_ not him.”

“Pardon?” Kageyama stared at the boy blankly. “Why are you here?”

Unperturbed by his frosty reception, the boy placed one knee on the chair as he studied everyone there. His eyes alighted on Tooru. “Oh ... um ...” He frowned. “You’re not him either, and she’s a girl, so ...” He vaulted off the chair and approached the refrigerated counter, where Suga was setting out more mille-feuille.

“Can I help you?” he asked, and found himself smiling because the boy in front of him was in possession of the most infectious grin.

“Sugawara-san?” The boy gave a small bow. “I have something for you,” he continued. “Come this way, please?”

“Um... what?” Suga glanced at Tooru, wondering if he’d set this up, but he raised his eyebrows. “I am working, you know. I can’t just leave.”

The boy furrowed his brow, his eyes flitting to the right as he tried to remember something.  He smiled again. “But, you must be entitled to a break, Sugawara-san, so ...” Scampering back to the table, he whipped out a smallish looking box from his bag, then reached into the side pocket and removed a flask.  Finally, from the bottom of the bag, he produced a small vase and a rather broken carnation and placed it in the centre of the table. “Ta-da!”

“What is this?” Suga asked, goggling but unable to stop a sense of mounting excitement.

“Don’t look at me. Go and find out, Kou-chan,” Tooru ordered, and pushed him lightly with his fingers. “Take your break.”

Giggling, Suga sat down as the boy poured him a piping hot cup of tea from the flask. The box was a bento box, packed with rice, pork, the most delicious looking pickles and two sushi rolls.  “Prawns, how lovely.”

“Um,” the boy said, and swept down in a very low bow. “I’ve been told to tell you that they’re not prawns, but shrimps.”He gave Suga a wink, handing over an envelope. “Sawamura-san sends his regards, and hopes you have a lovely lunch.”

The red haired boy backed away, cannoning into Kageyama, who scowled but bit back a yell. “Watch where you’re going, dumbass,” he hissed.

“Kageyama-kun, please take our guest to the counter and let him choose a cake,” Suga reprimanded. “Anything he wants, okay?”

Not caring that all eyes were on him now (not only Tooru and Yachi, but all the customers near him had stopped their chat to stare) Suga ripped open the envelope.

‘ _Sorry, I didn’t stay last night. I understand if my behaviour has put you off, but I would love another date. A restaurant, perhaps?  Or you could come over to my apartment and I’ll cook._

_Daichi_

_PS: I am quite a good cook. Not your class, obviously, but I can throw things in a wok and get decent results_

_PPS: Enjoy the shrimp!_ ’

“Um ... Sugawara-san.” The boy was shifting from one foot to the other, not nervous, but as if he had endless energy that needed an outlet. “Do you have an answer for Sawamura-san?”

“You know him, do you?” Tooru asked, looking sceptical.

The boy nodded, his eyes wide. “I make his lunch every day. He ... um ... asked me to prepare this, so I hope you like it. The vase was my idea,” he said proudly, then sighed. “Sorry, the carnation’s limp.”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama muttered. “Why would you put it at the bottom of the bag?”

“Hey, I couldn’t put the vase on top of the food, or it would have crushed everything!” the boy protested.

Smothering a smile, because it really was quite funny the way they were squaring up to each other, Suga tapped the boy on the arm. “Tell Sawamura-san ‘yes, I’d be delighted’. Oh, and take him a cake, too. The strawberry tarts are fresh this morning, and I don’t think he’s tried one yet.”

 

On a high for the rest of the afternoon, it was hard not to let his thoughts race to the weekend with mounting excitement. Serving larger than normal slabs of cake, and crafting lovehearts in latte foam, he hummed as he worked with a definite spring in his step, and his smile was never far away.

“I told you he’d come back,” Tooru drawled, touching Suga lightly on his shoulder. “Although even I didn’t think he’d apologise quite so quickly. He must have you ba-aad, Kou-chan.”

“Hush. It’s a second date, that’s all,” Suga scolded. Stifling a yawn, he rubbed his back, arching it slightly to stretch the muscle.

Tooru’s sharp eyes missed nothing. “Is your back hurting? Do you need to rest? Shall I fetch your medication?”

“No, no, not at all,” he assured him. “I’m a bit stiff.” Blocking out the memory of Daichi’s hands on his back, he focused instead on Kageyama, who was now loading the dishwasher.

 “So ... you know what we were talking about earlier...”

Tooru followed his gaze. “Mmm, you still haven’t convinced me, but if you insist, then I’m not going to fight you. What do you want me to do?”

“Just don’t raise any objections when I talk to him, okay?”

“Fine,” Tooru huffed.

With a slight wink, Suga moved into action. Plucking a roll from the bread basket, he broke it in two, then slathered one half with butter. “Good bread, Kageyama-kun!” he called out. “Nice texture, too. Don’t you think, Tooru?”

“Oh yes, not bad,” Tooru replied, sounding both condescending and conciliatory. “Little more practise needed, Tobio-chan, but you’ll get there... I’m sure.”

Kageyama halted, a plate in his hands, and stared at them both, his mouth agape. “P-practise?”

“Mmmff,” Suga replied, his mouth full of bread, which was thankfully quite delicious.  He swallowed, and emphasised rubbing his back. “If you want to take over making the morning bread, Kageyama-kun, at least until I’m fully recovered, then I’d be very grateful.”

“Uh...”

“So eloquent,” Tooru murmured.

“Shut up,” Suga whispered, then cleared his throat. He turned away, figuring it looked more casual and not like a set-up if he pretended he’d finished talking, then did a double take.  “Oh, but it would mean you getting here at five- thirty every morning.”

“I can do that!” Kageyama practically shouted.

“Yes, but that means I have to be up early to let you in,” Suga said, praying that Kageyama or Yachi (who was watching curiously) didn’t suggest giving him a key. “Rather defeats the purpose of having you here.” He pretended to think. “Unless you fancy staying for the week. Just until my back’s better ...”

***

It had been a long and gruelling week. Pre-season training always was hard, but now as Captain, Daichi found it tougher than before. He’d never slacked off in his life (well, not when it came to volleyball) but the pressure was more intense now the team looked to him. His position was still not confirmed, which added to the weight, but he knew focusing on that instead of leading the team, wouldn’t help anyone.

Working mornings, heading to the gym over lunch, then making his way to the practise courts, was not conducive to daydreams, but he’d still managed to work himself into a ball of worry over the date coming up.

Suga had texted his acceptance, immediately lifting Daichi, but then he plummeted because a restaurant could well be too public (there was no way he could pull off the ‘we’re just friends’ line, not when every glance at Suga sent the blood roaring through his veins. And sitting opposite him ... no.  So, he’d opted for cooking a meal, Suga agreeing with a ‘:D’ face. And now he was worried.

Okay, so it looked as if Suga trusted him, and wasn’t put out that this seemed a large step for such an early stage in their relationship (could he call it a relationship yet?) and that was good. But, what if Suga was expecting him to make a move? What if Suga was the type to dive headlong into something? Or maybe all he was after was a shag. A one night stand. Perhaps ...

_I .. don’t have condoms._

‘Beep’ It was Suga texting him

_< <’Shall I bring anything?’>>_

“Fuck! What? How does he know?”

_I’ll go to the chemist._

**< < Got everythng nuder control.’>> **he replied, his fingers shaking.

“FUCK!”

**< <UNDER!!!  Not nuder!>>**

_< < ‘Lol Not even dessert? I could probably lay my hands on something :D’>>_

_Oh – ha ha ha. Dumbass, Dai-chan! Oh. Um ... what shall I say?_

**< <’Just yourself. I won’t talk volleyball, so we can both leave work behind us.’>>**

_Yeah, that’s not bad. Quite smooth, actually._

_< <Okay :D.  Did you like the strawberry tart?>>_

Oh-oh!

 **< <’Delicious.  Pastry was good, filling was excellent and I loved the glaze on the strawberries.’>>**  he tapped, punching the send button once he’d checked the message. Then, before Suga could question him further, he added, **< <’Hinata loved the raspberry cupcake. He said it was very fruity and sweet. He’s bugging me to send you lunch again, so he can have another.’>>**

_< <I’ll tell Kageyama. They’re his creation. I might be a little late, so is 7.30 ok?’>>_

**< <Np. See you then.>>**

_< < xx>>_

He blinked at the screen. Kisses. Should he send some back?  How many? Two? One? Three? Twenty- seven?  What the hell – he should have replied straight away, now it would look as if he’d thought too hard about it.  Shoving the phone back in his pocket, he puffed out a breath. He had a mountain of things to do before Suga arrived, so maybe he should make a start.

Stepping into his lounge, supremely pleased that Kuroo had properly cleared up, and not been back during the week to mess his life up, he noticed his answer machine flashing. Without thinking, he pressed play, then groaned when the familiar voice of his agent greeted him.

“Dai-chan!” crowed the voice. “You avoiding me, buddy! Not taking my calls now, huh?”

“I was busy, and you won’t take no for an answer!” he muttered at the machine.

“I got a great deal for you. The Cats have been sniffing round again, and someone left a real mysterious message asking for your availability. Think it’s an Eagles’ guy. Anyway, give me a call today!”

He picked up the receiver, and hit the buttons. Tendou Satori answered on the second ring.  “Dai-chan, you finally got back to me. I’ve been after you all week.”

“Yeah, it’s called training, Tendou, and working hard for a living. What d’you want?”

Tendou chuckled, the sound evoking memories and an image in Daichi’s head. He could see the guy leaning back in his chair, feet on the table, and playing some game on his tablet, while he talked to Daichi. He’d have a smirk on his face, his whole attitude giving the impression that he was a lazy idiot who didn’t give a fuck. But Tendou was sharp, having managed to get Daichi a good deal on his last contract and a get out clause, although he’d snapped and snarled when Daichi had taken over the captaincy without deferring to him.

“Cats have upped their offer.”

“I don’t want to go there. I’m a Crow. Besides, I’m in line to be Captain, and Kuroo’s not leaving, so it’d be a step down.”

“Then there’s the other guys-”

“Eagles?” He shook his head. “Not at all interested. I’m staying in Tokyo, Tendou, you should know that.”

“Not the Eagles. I ... uh ... got that wrong.”

“Really?” Now Daichi was amused because his agent rarely made a false step. His intuition was second to none, and although Daichi knew a lot of it was down to luck and guesswork, he still had an incredible success rate, particularly when it came to sniffing out what the clubs were after.

“Jaguars, Dai-sssama.”

He almost dropped the phone. “Huh?”

“You heard me. They want you in Brazil. The money’s amazing. Like stellar, and think what it could do for you worldwide.”

“B-Brazil?”  He cradled the phone against his chest, trying to make sense of Tendou’s words, shutting out his cackle of laughter.  Taking a breath, he at last answered. “I have a good shot at captaincy with the Crows, Tendou. I thought you were negotiating that.”

“I am. I am,” came the reply, and yet another laugh. “It’s very good leverage, Dai-chan. Leave it to me.”

“No...” He swallowed. “I’m not  interest-”

“Yeah, you are,” Tendou replied, cutting him off mid-speech. “Or you woulda answered straight away. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you know it. I’ll come over tonight, take ya out to dinner so we can discuss.”

“No, no. I’m busy tonight!” Daichi insisted.

“Cancel! These guys aren’t here for much longer.”

“NO! I am NOT cancelling tonight. Leave me alone, Tendou, or I swear I’ll either break your neck ... or worse, find another agent.”

Laughing, Tendou clicked off his phone, leaving Daichi mouthing into air.

Brazil?  Really? And the Jaguars – playing in the best league in the world – wanted him. Him? He slumped on the sofa staring at the wall in front of him.

_Wow._

Holy... Wow!

The Jaguars were interested. That’s...

“Impossible.”

But what if it came off? What if...

“No!” he told himself, very sternly, because sometimes Tendou’s impulsive gambles didn’t come off, and it was up to Daichi to stay grounded.  “Focus.”

He slapped himself – hard – around the face and straightened up. “Suga’s coming over. I have a date. I need to prepare.”

It was one of his great strengths in volleyball that he could drive distractions out of his head, and while he found his thoughts occasionally flitting to the conversation with Tendou, he kept his attention on more immediate pressures.  His dinner date - and it was only now that it hit him with force that he was cooking for Suga.

Suga who was a near as dammit fully qualified chef.

“Okay, I gotta make this good,” he muttered, and set out to the shops.

With bags of meat, fresh noodles, fresh fruit (including a huge watermelon) and vegetables, two bottles of wine, beer (in case Suga didn’t drink wine)  and juice (because he might still be on medication)Daichi struggled through the main door, tipping his head to the receptionist and made his way to the lift.

He’d moved here a little under a year ago when he’d started to make decent money and hadn’t regretted it. It was easy to shut the world away when he was in his top floor flat, yet it wasn’t so distant an ivory tower that he never saw anyone. His neighbours were equally discreet – he was on nodding terms with them, and had been invited for the occasional drink in the evenings, but apart from that, it was a pretty solitary existence.

Kuroo didn’t get why he wanted to be alone, often calling him up to go out, or offering him company, but Daichi liked to be able to come home, step out of his suit or training gear, and veg out in front of the television. Or play his music loud and pretend he was a rock star.

With that in mind, he plugged his iPod into the speakers, set the volume up high, and picked up the watermelon, tossing it into the air, to catch on his outstretched arms.

“Bring it on!”

 

Hair still a little damp from the shower, pulling on a burgundy shirt and dark jeans, Daichi was debating cologne when he heard the doorbell ring.  It was gone seven, Suga had said he’d be late, so glowering he strode to the door and wrenched it open.

“Tendou, I said I wasn’t-  Oh!” He stopped abruptly. Instinctively the right hand side of his mouth twitched into a grin, because there on his doorstep, smiling hesitantly, stood Suga.

“I’m ... um ... early. Sorry, I did try and call, but uh ...”

“Loud music,” Daichi replied. “Or I might have been in the shower.” He opened the door wider. “Come in, come in. Make yourself at home.”

“Wow!” Suga’s eyes were wide, taking in the hallway as he slipped off his  jacket. “Beautiful place.”

 _Wow, back!_   Daichi thought, admiring the figure clad in a pale green shirt slightly rumpled at his waist, and jeans – not too tight -  that set off _the_ most perfect ass. When Suga bent over to remove his shoes, Daichi looked away, aware he was staring, and steeled himself not to touch.

“I’m ... uh ... finishing something in the kitchen,” he said instead, and gestured to his lounge. “Sit down and I’ll fetch you a drink. Wine? Beer? Juice?”

“Glass of white would be nice,” Suga replied, still turned away as he tried to unpick a knot in his lace. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can find it. Get back to your cooking. It all smells wonderful and I’m starving.”

Dashing back to the kitchen, removing the noodles before they were rendered to mush, Daichi fetched down two glasses, then uncorked the white. He was about to pour, when he heard a step behind him, and then a hand touching his arm.

“Close your eyes,” Suga chirped.

“Hmm?”

“Close your eyes,” he repeated, a little more insistently, now squeezing his arm.

Obediently, Daichi shut his eyes- tight – then turned around. He felt Suga’s finger on his lips, and smiled a little as he nuzzled, and then something else, the taste of chocolate, smooth as velvet, sweet enticing and ...

Burning!

“NO!” Backing away, he spat vociferously and leapt across to the sink. With the water on full blast, he drank from the tap, slurping then spitting out, scrubbing at his lips and tongue.  And he could hear Suga’s shout, his surprise and shock, but there was nothing Daichi could do. The familiar itch, the swell and sting began and there was no way he could prevent the reaction.

“What’s happened?  Daichi!” Suga exclaimed. There in his hand was a small dish containing some sort of cake, and on his finger, he’d scooped a little of the chocolaty filling to feed to Daichi.

“A-Allergy,”  Daichi spluttered, water dribbling from his now swelling lips. “To egg.”

“ OH My GOD!  Do you need an ambulance?” His voice was raised and tremulous.  “Can I get a doctor? Y-Your face is swelling. A-and your eye. What have I done?”

“I’m a’right. Need anti-histamine,” Daichi sought to reassure him, but Suga was staring white-faced in shock, and catching sight of himself in the kettle reflection he could understand why.

It wasn’t just that he’d erupted into hives, or that his lip was swollen, but the reaction was spreading and now his eyes were not only incredibly itchy, but threatening to close. He reached across to the cupboard, rifled through it and pulled out his tablets. “I’ll be fine,” he said and gulped down a tablet. “Takes a while to settle, but uh ... honest I’m okay.”

“Anaphylaxis?” Suga queried, his tone sharp.

He shook his head, biting hard on his lip to try to stop the irritation.  “Nothing like that. Look, don’t worry.  You didn’t know.” He gulped some more water, then raised the glass to his face hoping the cold would ease the itching before he rubbed his skin raw.

“Ice,” Suga murmured. “I’ll get you some.”

“I can do it.”

“I think after I’ve half killed you, it’s the least I can do,” Suga said firmly. “You sit down and I’ll be the doctor this time.”

A few minutes later, carrying a tea towel, in which he’d wrapped some ice, Suga entered Daichi’s lounge.  Ignoring Daichi’s outstretched hand, Suga sat on the arm of his chair, and very carefully dabbed his face with the makeshift ice pack.  The anti-histamines hadn’t kicked in yet, and Daichi could feel the itch and burn under his skin, but as Suga administered to him, Daichi felt the sting lessen.

“I had no idea,” Suga murmured.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s not something I bring up in conversation,” he replied, staring blearily up at Suga through his half closed eyes.

“And I’d apologise,” Suga continued, his tone a little less sweet, “except I was led to believe that a certain person had not only eaten the cakes he’d been given, but had enjoyed them all!” He pressed harder with the ice, glaring at Daichi. “Instead of which, I find two boxes of cupcakes in the freezer!”

“Ah!” Daichi rasped. “Um ... yeah, I guess I should have said.”

“Yes, you should!” Suga whacked him on the chest. “That was a stupid and dangerous thing to do, Daichi!  VERY STUPID!  And ... you even told me you liked the strawberry tart. Did you lie about that?”

“Um ... not exactly. Hi-Hinata ate it, and told me what he liked, so I ... uh ...” The blood was rushing to his face, the only saving grace being that the hives and itching would hide the fact that he was blushing. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” he muttered. “You make such beautiful cakes. Like works of art, and I can’t eat them.”

“Dumbass!”

Expecting another whack, Daichi didn’t cower, but made his eyes round and pouted out his bottom lip (mind you it was so swollen, it was doing a pretty good job of pouting without him pushing it out further).

“Sorry,” he said again.

Sighing, Suga removed the ice pack and ran his fingers through Daichi’s hair. “And I’m sorry I half killed you. I made you a Sachertorte, but maybe I should have called it Death by Chocolate.”

“Hey,” Daichi chided and lifting his hand, he placed it on Suga’s waist. “I’m not dead yet.”

They were a matter of inches away from each other, then closer, then closer, then the hair’s breadth between them disappeared.  Suga bent lower, Daichi tilted his chin up. 

“Does your mouth hurt?” Suga whispered.

“Not at all.”

“Good.”

Their mouths met, tentative, then certain. Suga’s lips were warm after the ice, and parted easily, his tongue slipping between his teeth to caress Daichi’s swollen lips. His hands encircling Suga’s waist, he pulled him from the arm of the chair, shifting sideways so they nestled together. Dropping the icepack to the floor, Suga pressed into him, his hands cupping his cheeks. And the kiss became more intense, more searching, Suga closing his eyes, a faint gasp emerging from his throat when Daichi kissed his neck.

“Why did you keep those cakes?” Suga murmured when they broke for air.

“Uh ...” With what he hoped was an apologetic grin, (but could have been a grotesque snarl given the puffiness of his face) Daichi raised Suga’s hand to his mouth, kissing his palm. “You’ll think me the biggest sap alive, but they’re so beautiful, I couldn’t bear to give them away.”

“Idiot,” Suga whispered, but he didn’t look annoyed any more. He gave a deep sigh of contentment, resting his head on Daichi’s chest, while his hand splayed along his shoulder.  “I was starting to think this wouldn’t happen.”

“Ah ... yeah, sorry about that.”

“You didn’t have a call from Kuroo, did you?”

“That obvious, huh?  Sorry, no. I ... uh ... might have jumped to a conclusion, and ... um ...”

“About Tooru?” Suga raised his head, his eyes searing into Daichi, holding his gaze with utmost sincerity. “I suppose you saw that photograph on our pinboard.”

Nodding, Daichi rubbed the side of his face. “It kinda freaked me out. And I know you’re close. He ... um ... he calls you Koushi, and I kind of wondered ...” He looked away. “Sorry, it’s not my business.”

“He started to call me Koushi or Kou-chan to be provocative, when he found out I didn’t like it. The habit has stuck with him,” Suga soothed. His thumb began to caress Daichi’s cheek, straying to his earlobe. He smiled gently. “We went out when we first met at college. Lasted a little under eight months, ended awkwardly, but in the end we stayed friends. There are things- ” He stopped speaking and when he continued he’d assumed a lighter tone. “We’re not together, and won’t be again. And ... um ...I’d like to think it is _your_ business, unless me trying to poison you has put you off.”

Sighing, Daichi pulled him closer. Their foreheads touched. “Not at all,” he muttered, then grinned. “I got my kiss far earlier than I deserved after last week. I’ve not even wined and dined you yet.”

“Suddenly not very hungry, or thirsty,” Suga replied, and puckered up his lips for another kiss. “Well, not for food.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, again, for all the kudos and comments. I am so excited and happy you like this story, too.


	7. Tipsy Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daichi has cause to celebrate, and Suga's trepidation nearly gets the better of him.
> 
> (But everything can be solved with cake, right?)

Letting them in through the back door of the shop, Suga curled his hands around Daichi’s neck and pulled him down for what he hoped wasn’t a last goodnight kiss. Their fourth date – some dull as ditchwater movie – had been illuminating for the very reason that Daichi had again been trying to impress but once he’d caught sight of Suga stifling a yawn, had hid his own in his hand, before whispering that at least in the dark, they could kiss without anyone complaining.

“So, if the fancy foreign film where they linger on the scenery and it’s supposed to mean something hasn’t put you off, do we have a fifth date?” Daichi murmured, before pressing his lips to Suga’s.

They kissed for a while, Suga wasn’t sure how long, just that the air in his lungs seemed to have decreased, but then Daichi merely grinning at him caused that phenomenon too.

“Maybe we should talk about it together?” Suga suggested breathily. “Plan it ... now. Over ... uh ... a nightcap.”

The scrape of a chair sounding from the floor above made him sigh, and he bit his lip guiltily. “Down here, if you’d rather?”

“Your apprentice is still staying.”

“Mmm, sorry. It’s not every night, but sometimes he needs a break and ... well, he does make exceptionally good bread.”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologise,” Daichi whispered. “And ... uh ... a nightcap sounds good.”

As Suga smiled, he felt something drift to the air towards him, something delicious was wafting down the stairs. “He’s baking, must be practising cakes, or ...” he sniffed again, “no, it’s pastry, and something else, something sweeter, crème anglaise? I can smell the vanilla.”

 Daichi wrinkled up his nose. “You can tell that. I get cake, but that’s about it.”

“It _is_ my job. And I happen to have an exceptional nose.”

Flipping Suga’s nose with his finger, Daichi kissed him again before relinquishing him. “Come on, I’d like to stay for while.”

As they mounted the stairs, lingering a little only so they could kiss again, Suga heard the unmistakeable sound of Kageyama in the kitchen. It wasn’t that he was loud, on the contrary he didn’t chatter the way Tooru did, or sing along with the radio on full blast like Suga was known to do, instead he was quiet, stealthy, but every so often a satisfied murmur and hum would erupt from his lips followed, on this occasion, by a small chuckle.

“He’s happy,” Suga explained, holding a finger to his lips. “Go in the lounge and I’ll bring us some glasses and a bottle.”

“You sound surprised,” Daichi whispered.

“Um ... not really, but the situation with his room had been wearing him down.”

“Has he said much more?”

“Not really.”  Suga shrugged, then showing Daichi into the lounge, noting with relief, but no real surprise, that it was tidy and Kageyama hadn’t set out his bedroll yet, he wandered towards the kitchen.

He hesitated at the door, watching Kageyama because caught unawares, he relaxed as he baked. There was no hardship to letting him stay, only a slight awkwardness about inviting Daichi back, not least because locking themselves in Suga’s bedroom was not a move they’d exactly talked about yet.

It had been a little over three weeks since the festival, and although Kageyama had at last offered up the reason he’d been attempting to camp out (which was as Suga suspected his landlady’s noisy nephew) he’d not mentioned the bruising on his arm, or told him that anything was better. Suga had gone so far as to offer to talk to the landlady himself, which had brought forth a horrified ‘no’, and then a gulp of ‘I’m looking for somewhere else at the moment, so please don’t concern yourself, Sugawara-san.’.  So on the surface, things appeared much better, but there was still something concerning his kouhai, and Suga wanted to be able to help, but that was difficult when the boy in front of him was determined not to confide.

“Sugawara-san.” Kageyama bowed. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I won’t disturb you,” Suga murmured and walked casually into the kitchen. “Sawamura-san and I are going to have a drink before he leaves, so I’ll take a bottle and two glasses, and ...” He licked his lips, inhaling again as he passed the stove. “Something smells delicious. Creme anglaise?”  he peered into the saucepan, resisting the urge to stir the very pale sauce, which should have been yellower.  “But ... no ... not quite.”

“Uh ... It is ... I haven’t finished it yet.” Kageyama bit his lip, his eyes flickering to the door. “S-sorry, I will pay you back for the ingredients.”

“Don’t be silly,” Suga replied as he moved across to the fridge. “You’re our apprentice, so you need practise.  I should be mentoring you more frequently as it is.”  He peered into the fridge, grimacing because the only white he had was one he’d cook with. “Daichi!”

“Mmm?”

“Red wine or beer?”

“Uh ...” His voice was louder, and looking up from his examination of the fridge, Suga saw Daichi standing at the kitchen threshold. He nodded to Kageyama, who bowed in return. “Glass of red would be nice.”

“Do you want anything to eat?”

He shook his head, then inhaled the fresh smells around him. “Something’s good, Kageyama-kun,” Daichi murmured. “Smells delicious, which reminds me, I really must buy some of your raspberry cakes for a friend of mine. He hasn’t stopped raving about them.”

Kageyama frowned a little. “Who?”

“Hinata-kun. I think you met him the day he dropped off lunch for Sugawara-san,” Daichi replied, sounding neutral but Suga could see his lips twitching because he’d found the story of Hinata’s visit to the shop doubly amusing once Suga had filled him in on Kageyama’s reaction.

“I remember him,” he muttered stiffly.

Picking up a bottle, rifling around for a cork screw, and plucking two glasses from the cupboard, Suga sauntered over to Daichi, brushing past him as he headed for the lounge, but Daichi didn’t follow, not immediately, so he hovered by the door, wondering what was going on.

“Sugawara-san says you have a very noisy neighbour,” Daichi began, still focused on Kageyama.

“Yes... uh ... he’s not too bad. But ... uh ... I’m looking for somewhere else.” His eyes flickered to Suga. “I don’t want to inconvenience you. I know I’m putting you out.”

“No... no, you’re not at all,” Suga assured him, and reaching across he tugged on Daichi’s sleeve. “Let’s leave him.”

But Daichi had folded his hands across his chest. “One of my friends had a similar problem,” he continued. “At least, he’s a friend of a friend.” He glanced at Suga. “Kuroo’s mate was renting a flat, and there was a new landlord who wanted to put up the rent, but Kai had a contract which tied him to the lower rent.”

“Oh ...” Suga peeped at Kageyama from under his lashes, noting that although he gave the appearance of not listening, the boy had stopped stirring his sauce. “So what happened to Kai -san?”

“The landlord made his life pretty unbearable. Mucked up the smoke alarms and the sprinkler system, didn’t mend the boiler in the winter, that sort of thing. Kai couldn’t prove anything, but it was a pretty big coincidence. So, Kai didn’t want to put up with the crap for much longer, and he was planning to leave anyway because he’s getting married, but ... uh ... there was a stumbling block.”

“Which was?” Suga prompted when Kageyama didn’t answer.

“The landlord wanted to withhold his deposit. Said he hadn’t given sufficient notice. Now, the thing is, Kai needs that money for his wedding and a future deposit, so he was rather tied,” Daichi explained, still facing Kageyama. “Kai’s a big guy and can take care of himself. He’s streetwise, too, but ... uh ... in the end, it took Kuroo, Kai and myself to go round to the flat, pick up his things and get the deposit back.”

“You threatened him?”

Daichi grinned. “No. Well, not with fists, but Kuroo gave a good impression of being a lawyer. Like I said he’s charismatic and can bullshit his way through most situations.”

Suga watched as Daichi took a breath, his eyes still trained on Kageyama who’d completely given up the pretence now that he wasn’t listening.

“Kageyama-kun, is that’s what’s happened?” Suga whispered.

He nodded dully.  “Sort of. The landlady won’t give me the deposit back because... uh ...” He gulped again and screwed up his eyes. “She says there are damages to be paid for, but ... um ... there aren’t. At least I didn’t break anything deliberately, but Tsukuda-kun – that’s her nephew – he ... uh ... pushed me when I went around to complain, and I broke a vase.”

“Just a vase?”

“Uh ... yeah, although I gave him a black eye so she doesn’t like me for that reason either.”

To Suga’s surprise, Daichi laughed. “Good for you,” he said, lilting his grin to Suga. “You see, your kouhai can take care of himself, but ... Kageyama-kun, you do need to get your things and get the deposit back or you’ll end up somewhere worse. I could always be the lawyer this time, and maybe rope in Iwaizumi-san as the muscle.”

 

“You are a genius,” Suga muttered as they left the kitchen. “How did you figure that out?”

Daichi sat on the sofa, waited for Suga to pour him a glass of wine, before he poured Suga one. “It really did happen to Kai. He’s currently staying at Kuroo’s. I thought it worth a try at least.”

Leaning across, Suga squeezed Daichi’s arm. “Maybe you should be the muscle, and I’ll be the lawyer,” he giggled before relaxing back against the cushions, exhaling. “I can see why you’re the captain. You handle people incredibly well.”

Clicking his tongue, Daichi handed Suga his glass. “Not confirmed yet, but I’m hoping in the next two days they’ll offer me the position permanently.”

“And then?”

He grinned again. “Celebratory drinks, and ... uh ... you can meet my team if you want.”

 

***

For about the eighth time since he’d arrived, Daichi checked his watch. The team were all here now, including the coach, one of the board members and his agent. (He hadn’t exactly invited Tendou, but as he’d done such a good job with the new contract, Daichi couldn’t say no when he’d assumed he was on the guest list.)

“Worried he’s not turning up?”

“He’ll be here,” Daichi muttered, then cast a rueful smile at Kuroo. “Am I that obvious?”

“Bit twitchy, that’s all,” Kuroo replied.  He leant across the bar, signalling to a barman. “Hey, Yaks, I’m dying of thirst here.”

“You always are!” Yaku Morisuke, the owner of the bar, yelled back. “There’s a queue, Kuroo. Wait your turn.”

“Gah, you think he’d give me priority, wouldn’t ya?” Kuroo moaned loudly as Yaku proceeded to serve Futakuchi. “We were at school together.”

“A fact I’m trying my hardest to bleach from my brain,” Yaku retorted.

“But look at all this custom I’ve brought you,” Kuroo complained, and slapped his arm across Daichi’s shoulders. “He’d not have had his party here if it hadn’t been for me.”

“Not exactly true,” Daichi protested because when he’d been thinking about venues, Suga had also suggested Morito’s and he’d wanted him to feel comfortable. He checked his watch again, and then his phone. Suga had said he’d meet him here, and had texted to say he was on his way, but that was nearly three quarters of an hour ago.

“Stop frowning. You’ll get wrinkles and then lover boy won’t recognise ya.”

“He’s ... late,” Daichi mumbled, “and ... what if he’s changed his mind? I mean, it must be kind of intimidating.”

“Then call him.”

“Yeah... yeah, think I will.”

Heading towards the front door where it was quieter to make the call, Daichi sidestepped the new additions to the team, one of whom was Saeko’s brother getting on like the proverbial house on fire with the Crows’ Libero.  He waved Noya off when he called out, and pulled open the door to step into the cool night air.

And that’s when he saw him.

Suga was standing under the alcove of the shop next door, staring up at the sky, and from what Daichi could see was taking huge breaths, exhaling gustily and flipping his hair off his face.

Skulking against the wall, Daichi pressed Suga’s number, and waited for it to ring.

“Hello.”  Suga’s voice was clear over the phone and through the railing separating them.

“Are you on your way?” Daichi asked, keeping his voice low.

“Uh ... yeah, yeah, just a bit of trouble on the train. Won’t be long now. It’s very crowded, so ... uh ...”

“Okay. See you in a while.” He disconnected, placing his phone in his back pocket, then stepped under the lamplight. “Doesn’t look that crowded to me.”

“Ah ...” Suga swallowed, but instead of looking embarrassed, he started to giggle. “I’m sorry. I’ll um be with you in a bit.”

“You don’t have to be here, Suga,” Daichi said. He stepped closer, keeping his hands firmly by his sides. “I’d like you to be, but I get it if you can’t face them all.”

“Uh ... no ... it’s not that. Well, maybe it is a bit. I’m sure they’re all lovely, and I would like to meet everyone, and have a drink, but ... um ... Am I dressed right?” He peered closer. “Should I put a tie on? I do have one in my pocket because I wasn’t sure, and you’re wearing one. Yeah, okay, I’ll put –”

“Suga!”

“What?”

“Do you like wearing a tie?”

His hand fluttered to the open-neck of his shirt. “Not really, but I can-”

“Then don’t!” Daichi said firmly, not adding that the only reason he was wearing a tie was because Suga had said he’d liked it when he wore a suit. He looked him up and down, smiling because he liked what he saw, the sky blue shirt setting off his colouring, highlighting the silver of his hair. “You look _good_.”

“And jeans are fine?”

“The younger players are in jeans and hoodies,” Daichi replied. “So, are you coming in, or are you still worried about the dress code?”

“Uh... It’s not that I don’t want to be here,” Suga prevaricated.

“But you don’t want to meet everyone ‘en masse’?”

“Um ...” Suga gnawed at his lower lip. “It’s not even that really. I like meeting people, but I just ... um ... I’ve kind of done something that I thought it was a good idea at the time. It’s only now that I’m standing out here and watching you all, that I’m ... uh ... having second thoughts.”

“What?”

Suga laughed, his voice sounding high and nervy, then he collected himself, took another breath and shoved a bag at Daichi. “I didn’t want to come empty handed, so I made you a cake,” he said, adding, “It’s egg-free, too. I didn’t think your team would forgive me if I killed you, so I experimented a little, and found this recipe that tastes really good.”

 Genuinely touched, Daichi struggled to reply, at last sniffing before he said, “Why were you so worried? Those boys in there love cake, especially as it’s pre-season and they’re allowed to stuff themselves.”

Edging closer, Suga looked only a little relieved, pecking Daichi on the cheek, before he opened up the bag. “I went a bit crazy with the decorations though, so ... um ... I completely understand if it’s too much. It’s kind of ... childish.”

Snorting, because clearly Suga had no idea what volleyball players were like, Daichi lifted up the box lid. He stared down at the cake, quite a normal looking cake, round with some kind of pale frosting covering it, and then he smiled. He didn’t just smile but gasped with delight at Suga’s ingenuity.  For sticking out of the cake, on lollipop sticks, were miniature crows - not just crows – but birds made to resemble his team. He chuckled, recognising Noya with his dyed quiff, Futakuchi with his smirk and even the coach with his hair scragged back in a band. And there in the centre was Daichi.

“This is brilliant!” he muttered, unable to take his eyes off the cake. “You’re incredible, Suga. Mindblowingly clever. My god, I look so serious! Do I really frown that much?”

“Hajime says you’re stoic when you play, so ... uh ... I was trying to capture that. I made some others too, because I figured you’d have other people here. They’re all normal crows though apart from ... um ...” He tailed off, and Daichi saw him run his fingers through his hair. “Is it really okay? Only, I’d hate to embarrass you.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Daichi assured him fervently. “If anything it’s the other way around.” He craned his neck forwards so as to avoid crushing the box, and pressed his lips to Suga’s temple. “You’re amazing, so will you come inside and let me introduce you to everyone?”

Suga gazed up at him, his expression in the lamplight now happy and relaxed. “I’d like that very much, Dai-chan.”

“Dai _chi!”_ he emphasised, half pleading. “I get enough of that ‘chan’ and ‘sama’ stuff from that lot in there.”

“Oh...”

Daichi wasn’t sure he liked the way Suga said that, his eyebrows raised and a curve to his lips, but he took his hand and led him inside nonetheless, bracing himself for the possible storm.

If Suga had been worried about meeting the team, he showed no sign of it as they entered the bar. With a smile, he greeted everyone Daichi introduced him to, promising that he’d try to remember everyone’s names, ‘but make sure you correct me if I get them wrong.’  Not that he made any mistakes, and was soon deep in conversation with Noya and listening intently when Coach Ukai reeled off a volleyball anecdote, which Daichi was pretty sure Suga didn’t understand at all.

“So, how did you meet our Captain?” It was Futakuchi asking the question, his eyes assaying Suga, a glimmer of a smirk on his face as he flicked his attention to Daichi.

Suga glanced from Daichi to Futakuchi, evidently sizing the wing spiker up, too. He smiled a little. “I part-own a patisserie, and I was unloading a van, when Dai- _sensei_ passed by and helped me with a sack of icing sugar. It burst and covered us both.”

“Sensei?” Futakuchi leant forwards. “Why do you call him that, Sugawara-san?”

“Oh ... well, that is an interesting story, Futakuchi-san. After I covered your captain with icing sugar -”

“Don’t,” Daichi mouthed, biting his lip. “Suga, you haven’t met Shim-”

“Hey, don’t interrupt!” Futakuchi retorted. “This is getting interesting. So the Captain was covered in icing sugar, right?”

Suga lifted his hand, very gently flicking Daichi on the arm. He nodded. “He was absolutely covered, so came into the shop, where my partner was brushing him down.” He laughed a little. “That’s my business partner, Oikawa.  Anyway, Dai-sensei’s jacket was beyond the abilities of the clothes brush, so I offered to get it drycleaned, which obviously meant he had to return.”

He stood back, now tucking his arm into Daichi’s.

“Uh ...” Futakuchi shook his head, looking puzzled. “And the sensei part?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Suga quirked a smile at Futakuchi, encompassing everyone in the circle.

“Huh?” Noya replied, fidgeting a little. “Did I miss something?”

Rolling his eyes, very dramatically, Suga sighed. “He looks like a teacher, don’t you think?”

“Uh ...” Futakuchi shuffled his feet, and frowned. “Not ... really ... uh ... well, I guess he does. A little. Maybe ... Like the really scary PE teacher, I suppose.”

“Someone’s pullin’ yer leg, Futa-chan,” laughed Ukai, clapping him on the back. “I don’t think Sugawara-san has any intention of telling you the story.”

After that, any reservations that Daichi might have had about the reception Suga was going to get from the team, melted away.  Nudging Suga’s arm, he steered him away from his team, and towards the bar where Kuroo was chatting away to both Yaku and the one board member of the Crows who’d shown their face.

“Suga, you’ve already met Kuroo, and I presume you know Yaku, but this is Shimizu-san,” Daichi said, smiling across at her. “She’s kind of the manager for the Crows.”

“I’m on the board,” she corrected as she studied Suga. “Ukai does most of the managing. I merely assist with the finances and contract arrangements.” Her smile, such as it was, appeared wintry, which Daichi knew was merely part of her reserve, but Suga faltered, his lips pressed together.

“This is Sugawara Koushi,” Daichi murmured. “He’s my ...”

“Your what?” Suga had raised his eyebrows, a little tension settling on his shoulders.

“I was going to say patient,” Daichi teased, his voice a whisper. And then he pressed his lips to Suga’s temple. “My ... boyfriend, I guess, if that’s what you want to call yourself, Suga.”

“Ah,” Shimizu-san cut through the small silence as Suga’s eyes sparkled. “You must be the reason our captain played out of his skin against the Jaguars.”  She inclined her head. “Welcome to the Crow family, Sugawara-san.”

“Thank you.” He bowed to her. “Everyone’s been lovely so far, and no one seems to mind that I don’t even like volleyball. Ooops!”

They all laughed, even Kuroo who generally got antsy if he perceived someone was pissing on his sport, but then, Daichi reflected, it was very hard to be angry when faced with such disarming charm and honesty.

The conversation moved away from volleyball, Shimizu and Yaku (who’d decided to take a break from serving to join them on the other side of the bar) questioning Suga about his work, and expressing genuine delight over the cake. Shimizu, in particular, picked up one of the spare crow cake pops, her eyes becoming thoughtful.

“Crows? Pfft!” Kuroo muttered.

“This is a Crow party,” Daichi mocked. “What do you expect, you mangy stray?”

“We could have fun pulling their heads off,” cried another voice. “Whatja reckon, Kuroo?”

Daichi sighed, pulled Suga close, while he dramatically shielded the cake from the newcomer’s vision. “Suga, this is Bo-”

“I recognise you! You’re Bokuto-san, captain of the Owls,” Suga laughed. “My friend, Hajime, who does watch volleyball, pointed you out to me.”

“Oya, I have a fan!” Bokuto replied, and beamed so wide it was as if his whole face was smiling. “Must get him tickets. He likes the Owls, right?”

“Uh, not really,” Suga admitted, “but he said everyone loves you, Bokuto-san.”

“Don’t tell him that!” Kuroo groaned, pushing Bokuto away when he tried to wriggle through to the bar. “Anyway, I’m still not having a Crow!”

At that, Suga let out a chuckle, and reaching to the bottom of the pile of cellophane wrapped spare cake pops, he pulled out a different one. Not a black crow, but a cat wearing red, a cat with a fuzz of black hair spiked messily on its head, and quirky eyebrow. “For you, Kuroo-san!” he proclaimed. “Daichi said you’d be here and he also mentioned Bokuto-san, so ...” With a flourish he found the last cake-pop, which as Daichi suspected was in the shape of an owl, with outlandish grey hair sticking up all over the place. And if Suga was still in any doubt about the appropriateness of his gift, the doubts had to be dispelled by Bokuto’s delight and enthusiasm as he whooped his pleasure.  His eyes darted all over the place, finally fixing on the other Owl player who’d been invited.

“AKAASHI!  LOOK, LOOK, IT’S ME! I’M A CAKE!”

“No cakes are quieter and far less problematic,” Akaashi retorted, smoothly manoeuvring between the players, to land at his Captain’s side. Another person with a degree of reserve, but in Akaashi’s case he lilted a smile almost immediately in Suga’s direction.

“Akaashi Keiji,” he said and bowed. “It’s good to meet you at last, Sugawara-san.”

“At last?” Suga looked up at Daichi. “Have you been talking about me?”

“Has he not?” Kuroo moaned, then laughed and ruffled Daichi’s hair. “Every second sentence begins, ‘Suga says, or Suga thinks.’”

“It does not!” Daichi protested. “And I’ve not seen Akaashi and Bokuto since the tournament. It’s you that’s the gossip, you bastard.”

Suga watched the exchange in amusement, biting his lip, probably to stifle a laugh, and then linked his arm in Daichi’spulling him a little away from the group. “Tooru tells me I have to stop talking about you, too. He even threatened to destroy my phone because he says I’m not concentrating,” he whispered.

Absurdly pleased, Daichi didn’t even bother trying to hide the blush seeping across his face. Suga was so upfront and without guile, and just at that moment, he wished they were alone.  He bent his head down, intending to brush his lips of Suga’s forehead, but just then, Suga stood on his tiptoes and their mouths touched.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, placing his hand on Daichi’s waist.

“That I’d like to quit my party early,” Daichi admitted. “And celebrate only with you.”

 

 They didn’t leave right then, however much Daichi wanted to, instead Suga was led away by Bokuto, who clamoured for his attention as he tucked into a large slice of cake and two crows because he was saving his owl ‘forever’. 

“It will go mouldy,” Daichi heard Akaashi reply, but his look to his Captain was indulgent.

“So... is the new Setter here tonight?”  It was Tendou asking, leaning on Daichi’s shoulder.

“In the corner,” Daichi replied, gesturing to the Crows’ latest signing, not one from the trials, but an acquisition from another team.

“ _Hello_ , handsome!” Tendou drawled.

“Can’t say I’d noticed,” Daichi replied. “He’s determined and confident. Came from the Eagles.”

“Yeah, thought I recognised him. Doesn’t get many games. Is he any good?”

“Semi-san’s a little too individual for the Eagles’ style,” Daichi explained. “That’s not a problem for us, as we’re very adaptable. He wants a first team place.”

“Good find, then. How did ya get in touch?”

Taking great pleasure, Daichi prolonged the agony. “Shimizu-san. She approached him directly.”

Tendou groaned as Daichi smirked. “That woman is wreckin’ my business!”

“She’s sharper than you gave her credit for. I did warn you that she’s at least as good as her old man, if not better.”

“Yeah, well, most kids fail to live up to their parents standards, but I guess she’s the exception,” he muttered. And then Tendou smoothed down his shirt, checked his reflection in the mirror and licked his lips. “I don’t believe in mixing business with pleasure though, so maybe she’s done me a favour.”

“No, leave him alone. At least for now,” Daichi said firmly (because although he wasn’t going to tell Tendou, Semi hadn’t actually signed a contract yet). “Let me introduce you to Suga. You can save him from Bokuto.”

“Ah, go on, then. He’s pretty, too.”

***

It was much later than he’d liked, but in actuality only two hours later that Daichi and Suga left the party. With Suga the right side of lively after several of Yaku’s speciality cocktails (his version of a Mojito using kumquat liqueur) he tripped into the street, only staying upright when Daichi grabbed his arm.

“I think,” he whispered, squinting up into Daichi’s face, “that I’m a little drunk. Sorryyyy.”

“No problem, at all.” Daichi gathered him closer. “Shall I get a cab to take you home?”  As Suga considered, tilting his head to one side, Daichi swallowed away the sudden rasp that had appeared in his throat. “Or ... would you like to come back to mine? You could get a cab from there, or ... um ...”

Suga snuggled closer. “That ‘um’ sounds promising, sensei.”

“Then why...” Daichi began as he tried to extricate himself from Suga’s arms to pull out his phone, “... don’t I get us a car?”

 

Saeko turned up ten minutes later, not in the usual company car, but a yellow volkswagon, with miniature volleyballs hanging from the rear view mirror. 

“It’s Ryuu’s car,” she explained, opening the passenger car. “I said I’d pick him up later, although if he’s ready, then maybe he could share the lift.” She burst out laughing at the horror that must have been apparent on Daichi’s face. “I’m joking! He told me midnight, so if I go in there and haul him out now, he’ll be mad at me.”

“You don’t mind coming out twice then?”

“Nah, not for my favourite customer.” She grinned. “And not when I get to meet the guy he’s been so distracted by.” She paused and eyed Suga up and down. “Hey there, I’m Tanaka Saeko. You must be Sugawara Koushi, I heard a lot about you.”

Suga scowled a little, as if trying to place her, then his face cleared. “OH!  Yes, I thought you were a man called Sko, but obviously you’re not. Wow, that sounds rude. I’m really sorry.”

“Been called worse, sweetie,” she said blithely, and waiting for them both to get in the car, she slammed it shut, then strolled round to the driver’s seat. “Where ya going?”

“My place,” Daichi replied.

As she started the car, he settled back against the seat. Suga flopped against him, stretching his legs across the upholstery.

“You okay?” Daichi whispered. “Saeko could drop you off first, if you like.”

“I’m fine, and it’s too early for the party to end,” he muttered, lifting his head up and pecking Daichi on his jaw. You’re very handsome in moonlight, do you know that?”

Lowering his head, Daichi claimed Suga’s mouth with his own. He tasted of the mojitos, but sweeter and more enticing as he parted his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Daichi told him, when at last they pulled apart. “And thank you so much for tonight. My team think you’re great.”

“That’s nice,” Suga said, and then he chuckled. “They’re sweet. I’ve never seen grown men get quite so excited over cake. And they didn’t laugh when I couldn’t remember what a Wing man did.”

“Wing Spiker,” Daichi corrected, but softly because he didn’t really care what Suga called him, not when his eyes were lit up with laughter.

“Even your agent wanted another slice,” Suga continued. Scowling a little, he levered himself off Daichi. “He was telling me something, but ... I can’t ... Oh, it’ll come to me.”

Whatever it was Tendou had told Suga was cut off when Saeko braked suddenly, jolting them back together.

“Sorry, guys. The road’s closed, I gotta reverse.”

Recognising the street, Daichi leant forwards and tapped her on the shoulder. “We might as well walk, Saeko-san. Thanks for coming out, and do you want to add this to my account?”

“Nah, buy me a drink or something, Dai-chan. This ain’t the company car, so I can’t really charge ya.” She flashed him a grin in the mirror. “Nice to meet ya, Suga-san. Take care of this guy, will ya, he’s my favourite customer.”

Suga nodded quite a lot. “He’s my favourite too,” he declared, and stated to giggle again. “Not that I’m about to charge him for anything.”

Laughing, Daichi pulled Suga out of the car and they lurched towards the pavement. He steadied himself, then slung an arm under Suga’s shoulders, just in case he needed that support. But the taxi home coupled with the fresh air appeared to have revived Suga and he shrugged off the arm, instead holding Daichi’s hand.

“I loved the party, Daichi,” he said, and started to twirl one way then the other. “Your friends are fun, your team are adorable, your coach is scary but makes me laugh, and Shimizu-san was lovely. This has been such a good night. Thank you. Thank you so, so much for inviting me.”

Catching his breath, because Suga dancing in the lamp light was effortlessly beautiful, his smile as bright as moonbeams, Daichi tugged him back towards him, intent on another kiss or five because the three minute walk back to his apartment block seemed far too long. But as he did, as he lifted his other hand to smooth a stray strand of hair off Suga’s face, he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye and hesitated.

There was something a little out of place there, a shape in the background and his hand gripped Suga’s tight.

“What’s the matter?” Suga asked. “Why are we stopping?”

“Just ...” He cast a look back over his shoulder. “Let’s get a move on, okay?”

“Uh, sure.” Suga creased his brow. “Daichi, what’s the matter?” he repeated.

“Nothing.”  He increased his pace, not really sure what was happening. It wasn’t that he felt threatened, it hadn’t been danger that had filled him with sudden trepidation, just the ... there was something familiar, but he didn’t know what.

“Daichi.”

One word. Daichi stopped walking, but didn’t turn around.

“Daichi,” the man repeated.

“Someone knows you,” Suga mumbled. He tried to let go of his hand, but Daichi took a deep breath, entwined his fingers in Suga’s then very deliberately twisted back.

And the man was just as he remembered. Shorter, with a scrub of sandy curls, a splattering of freckles across his nose, and even the same worried expression Daichi always associated with him.

“Hayato,” he said clearly. “What are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Chapter summary
> 
> The one in which the author packs her bags and hides until she posts the update because she knows people will be yelling ...


	8. Bombe  Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which bombshells abound ... but maybe not from the direction you were expecting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this chapter to Andy (AndyZambie) and Daichi because they share birthdays :D :D :D

“Uh ... hi,” Hayato stammered, bowing a little formally to Suga, before turning back to Daichi. “S-sorry, this is a bad time.”

 _Too right it is,_ Daichi wanted to snap, but instead he whistled a breath through his teeth. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

“I ... um ... saw your tournament on TV. Really good game, Daichi. Reminded me of -” Daichi glared, and gulping Hayato rocked back on his heels, then steadied himself. He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Ikejiri, a friend of Daichi’s from college.”

“Sugawara,” Suga muttered, then lifted his hand to his mouth to stifle a soft hiccup.

“It’s ... um ... nice to meet you, Sugawara,” Hayato said, his voice unnaturally bright. “Have you been somewhere nice?”

“Hayato!”  Daichi interrupted, now getting annoyed at the pleasantries.

“Oh ... er ... yes. Um ... I wanted to see you, I guess. I’m in Tokyo for a few days and ...”

“Thought you’d drop by at eleven in the evening?”

“Uh... I didn’t know you’d be out.”

“No, I’d normally be sleeping.” Feeling Suga start to pull away, he gripped his hand tighter, then took another breath. “Look, this really isn’t a good time. I’m... we’re...”

Hayato’s eyes flicked to Daichi and Suga’s hands, still entwined. “Yeah, yeah, I can see.”

 _So go._ Daichi thought, and started to rub his temple. _Please, I don’t need this._

But Ikejiri Hayato, his ex from college, the man he hadn’t seen for nearly three years, was clearly not telepathic and stayed rooted to the spot.

“I should go,” Suga mumbled as the silence between the three threatened to deafen them.

“No, you don’t have to,” Daichi replied. He faced Hayato again. “Look, can we ... I don’t know what it is you want ... but can we catch up another time?”

Hayato closed his eyes and dropped his head, the gesture so familiar to Daichi, he found himself gulping at the long ago but not forgotten guilt.

“I wanted – needed - to talk to you, Daichi,” he mumbled. “But ... um yeah ... not a good time at all.”

“I will go,” Suga insisted, but he sniffed a little, and at that, Daichi gripped him harder.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

“You have things to talk about,” Suga replied, swallowing. Then he smiled, wide and bright and utterly fake as he wrenched himself free. “I’ll get a cab, or maybe I can catch up with Saeko-san.”

“No!”  Catching his arm, Daichi tugged him back towards him, but over Suga’s shoulder, he could see Hayato’s face fall and knew he couldn’t just walk away. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his key. “Take this,” he said to Suga, “and let yourself into the apartment. I’ll be with you really soon.”

“No... I ...”

“ _Please._ ”

Under the night sky, Suga’s hair gleamed. He remained motionless for a moment, but then the light haloed around him as he nodded. “If you’re sure,” he said, accepting the key.

“I am,” Daichi assured him, and gave his arm another squeeze. “Make yourself at home, okay?”

He watched Suga go, watched as he let himself into the apartment block, and waited for the door to close, and a small portion of relief settled inside him because at least he hadn’t left.

“He’s your latest, huh?”

“If by latest you mean the person I’m seeing, then yes,” Daichi retorted, suddenly annoyed. “If you’re asking if he’s the latest in a stream of men, then no.”

“I ... that came out wrong.” Hayato bit his lip. He stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to mess things up for you. I just wanted to see you. Wondered how you were.”

“There’s something called the phone, Hayato,” Daichi said witheringly, “or emails. You know, I’ve not changed mine since we broke up, that’s always an option. Jeez, I didn’t even know you were visiting Tokyo!”

“Nor did I!” Hayato almost shouted, but his voice rasped at the end. “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“How did you even know my address?”

“I called your mum,” he explained, chewing the side of his mouth. “Said I’d found some old photos from college and wanted to send them to you as a surprise.” He shut his eyes. “I shouldn’t be here, I know that, but I wanted to see you. I _need_ to talk to you!”

 _I guess I owe you that,_ Daichi thought and tried not to give too audible a sigh.“Yeah, sure. But not now, okay. It’s really not the nbest time to surprise me with a visit.” 

“I’ve picked up the phone so many times!” Hayato continued, his eyes imploring as he stared up at Daichi. “I typed emails I deleted and even wrote letters I tore up. Just ... I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you don’t need this.”

 _No, I don’t,_ Daichi thought wearily, _but I can’t leave you by yourself now._

“Okay, what’s the problem?” he asked, touching him on the elbow.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re right, this really isn’t the place or time.” He sniffed. “Sugawara seems nice.”

“He is.”

“Likes a drink, too. I saw him tripping up the street. Ha, you used to be so uptight about that! Your body was a temple!”

“We’re celebrating,” Daichi said coldly. “I’ve been made Captain and the team had a party.”

Hayato blanched. Daichi could literally see the colour leech from his face, making the freckles stand out even more. It had endeared Daichi once, and although the face in front of him was so familiar, he didn’t have the same urge to protect Hayato. He felt ashamed of the irritation settling in his gut and tried to smile.

“You’ve introduced him to the team,” Hayato said. “You’re ... uh ... out.”

“Mmm, to them. It seems it’s not that big a deal,” Daichi replied.

A breeze ruffled through them, picking up a discarded newspaper and sending it scuttling down the street. Daichi shivered a little, and turned up the collar of his jacket. “I really should get back to Suga,” he said, “but ... look ... if you want to meet for coffee or something, then get in touch, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” His mouth drooped again, and he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Sorry.”

“No.” Daichi plucked his sleeve. “Hayato, I mean it.  We’ll talk tomorrow. Call me.”

At that, Hayato nodded, turned away and began to trudge down the street. Daichi stared after him for a while and waited as he hailed a taxi. A few seconds later, he took a deep breath then headed towards his apartment.

 

He took the lift, thumping out his agitation on the button, then tried to calm his face as he rode up to his floor. It would be okay. Suga was inside, sitting on the sofa, and he could relax with him, get the evening back on track with a little more kissing and maybe...

But when the bell pinged, and the doors opened, the sight that greeted him wasn’t what he’d hoped. Suga _was_ there, but sitting outside the door, slumped against the wall. He lifted his head up when he heard the lift, gave a weary type of smile, then looked back down at the carpet.

It had been the briefest of glances, but Daichi had heard a heaved out sigh and caught sight of reddened eyes.  He lowered himself down to the carpet, crouching in front of Suga.

“Did the key not work?”

“Uh ... don’t know,” Suga mumbled. He swallowed, but kept his gaze on the carpet. “I didn’t try it. I thought I’d –”

Hearing a hitch at the back of his throat, Daichi reached out his hand to ruffle Suga’s hair, hoping he’d at least look up. But Suga curled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t do this again.”

Daichi stayed his hand. He frowned. “Do what?”

“Be in a relationship with someone who’s in love with someone else. I can’t do this, Daichi. You’re amazing, but I c-can’t p-put...” He gasped and held himself tighter, rocking slightly.

“What are you talking about?” Daichi asked, and this time he did touch Suga, letting his fingers slide though his silken hair.

“It was bad before, but I could get through that because ...” He shook his head.  “Daichi, I can’t do this to myself -”

_What?_

“Hey,” he interrupted, his hand moving downwards to his shoulder. “Suga, I don’t know what  -” He paused. “Suga, will you look at me? Please.”

With reluctance, Suga slowly raised his head, revealing not only reddened eyes, but hurriedly wiped away tear tracks.

“Will you come inside and tell me what this is about?”

He didn’t move, stayed where he was on the floor even when Daichi tugged his hand. Realising he wasn’t going to get up, Daichi stopped crouching , crooked his legs around Suga, and shuffled closer. He cupped Suga’s face in his hands, shocked that he looked so unhappy.

“What do you mean by you can’t do this ‘again’?” And although it hurt, he had to ask, “Is this about Oikawa?”

Suga gazed at him, his eyes still wet. Giving Daichi a wobbling sort of smile, he pulled away from his hands and leant his head back against the wall.  He stared up at the ceiling.

“Tooru was my first boyfriend, you know? I mean first ‘proper’ boyfriend,” he said at last, his voice low but clear. “I’d kissed someone before, but nothing else. And then I-” As he gulped, Daichi fought the urge to stop the story, afraid of what he’d hear. But Suga needed to talk, so he had to listen and not jump to conclusions again, however hard the knife turned in his gut.

“It was brilliant at first. Tooru was ... well, you’ve seen him, He’s so bright; magnetic, you know? So unafraid of everything. We ... um ... well, we got together pretty quick, too quick looking back. If we’d taken it slower then maybe ... but for four months it was good and so much fun.”

Daichi reached across, trailing his thumb across Suga’s cheek to wipe away a sudden tear.  “What happened?”

“Hajime happened,” Suga replied. “They’d been friends from school. He came to visit, and that’s when I realised.” He wrinkled up his nose and gave little laugh. “Tooru tried to deny it, but the way he looked at him, it was like he was _burning_.”

“And he dumped you for Hajime?”Daichi tried so hard to keep the vicarious outrage from his voice, but he could feel tension settling in his jaw.

Suga touched him on the arm. “Oh, no, not at all. Hajime had no idea. As far as he was concerned, Tooru was his childhood friend who happened to be gay.” He paused for a little breath and when he spoke again, his voice was strong, clear, less dull. “He’s a lovely guy, and Tooru is, too. He tried very, very hard with me, but in the end... It’s like cupping water in your hands – you know you’re going to lose it, so it’s best to let it go all at once.

“I finished it at the end of our first year. Told Tooru he had to talk to Hajime, sort it out with him, which of course he didn’t, but carried on through college with a stream of boyfriends or hook ups.”

“Um, so when did they get together?”

“After my accident. Tooru called Hajime and he dropped everything to come to Tokyo. We’d remained friends even after I’d split with Tooru.” He sighed, letting out a last ragged sigh, then turned his attention to Daichi.  “I was eighteen when we went out, and no, I’m not in love with Tooru now, but I can still remember that pain, so ...”

Daichi could see the set of Suga’s jaw as he relived his hurt, but his eyes were dry when he continued.

 “That man, Ike-something, he’s an ex, right?”

“Ikejiri? Yes, he is.”

“An important one?”

“We lasted two years,” Daichi muttered.

Suga held his breath, and then rubbed his nose. “Wow, two years. And he’s a volleyball player?”

“For college, yes. That was all.”

“Why’s he here?”

 “I have no idea. He wants to talk about something, and I said I’d see him tomorrow.”

Suga flinched, tried to wrench away, but Daichi leant forwards and touched his mouth to his temple. “I’m not in love with him, Suga. He’s an ex, one I maybe didn’t treat that well.”

“Really? I can’t imagine you treating anyone badly.” Suga sniffled. “It lasted a long time.”

“It ended over three years ago,” he stated.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Suga said. “The way you were looking at each other. Oh, hell, I shouldn’t be here!”

“Suga, please. I don’t know what you think you saw between us, but it’s ... it’s ...” He swallowed, then clasped Suga closer to him. He wanted to say that it wasn’t important, to reassure the man currently slumped on his hallway floor, but that wasn’t entirely true. “Hayato was a part of my life, like Oikawa’s part of yours. I can’t erase that, but it’s history.”

“He looked at you as if it wasn’t.”

Tutting, Daichi tilted Suga’s chin upwards, staring into his eyes. “I can’t help the way he looked at me. I’m not even sure what you can tell, but what I feel is ... is ... gah, I dunno, but a large part of it would be guilt.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He touched his forehead to Suga’s pouting out his lips to glance across his cheek. Suga sighed, and for a moment, Daichi thought he was going to twist away, but then he planted one soft kiss on Daichi’s mouth. But just as Daichi parted his lips, letting Suga’s tongue slip inside, he heard the faint ping of the elevator and pulled back.

“Not here, eh?”

“Sorry.” Suga whispered.

 “Nothing to be sorry for. Shall we go inside?”

He nodded a little mournfully, allowed Daichi to help him to his feet, then hiccupping softly followed him into the apartment. Taking off his shoes, he placed them slightly haphazardly at the entrance to the door, and waited until Daichi linked hands with him and pulled him towards the lounge.

“Make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring you a drink,” he murmured. “And then I’ll explain about Hayato.”

Suga flopped into the sofa. “You don’t have to,” he said, his voice small and fretful. “It’s not really my business.”

Bending over, Daichi pecked the smallest of kisses on Suga’s nose. “Like _you_ said, I’d like to think it is your business, all right?”

He returned with an open bottle of wine, a bottle of sparkling water, and two glasses. Joining Suga, he stretched out, nudging him over a little, so they could lie down together. And then, when Suga felt a little more relaxed, his breathing back to normal, Daichi placed one hand on his waist, and said, “Do you remember when I told you about dropping out of college?”

“How your parents were against it?”

“Mmm,” Daichi nodded. His hand drifted upwards to Suga’s cheek, giving it a faint caress. “They weren’t the only ones. And they’ve sort of come around now, especially as they have their back-up option of my brother,” he said, deliberately keeping his tone light, although it didn’t appear to fool Suga, who grimaced.

“Who else?” he asked.

“Hayato, mainly. I mean my tutors weren’t happy about it, but they understood,” Daichi explained.  He sighed, remembering the endless debates that had always come down to the same thing.

(“It’s reckless. You’re throwing away your entire future!”

“I’m living. I’m taking my chances while I can. Why can’t you see that?”

“You could be injured in the next game. And then what?”

“I could be run over by a bus, crossing the road. That’s a dumb excuse.”)

 “He tried really hard to dissuade me, though, said I was stupid to throw away two years of training. Volleyball wasn’t a _real_ career, and, you know, I understood. I got that he was talking sense, but it didn’t matter. I’d gone to college to please my parents, because it was expected, but it wasn’t what I’d wanted to do. If I could have tried out fresh from school, I would have done, but I didn’t. Instead I attended a college that didn’t even have a particularly prestigious volleyball team because the course was the one they thought best for me. And suddenly I was being offered a whole new chance and I had to grab it.”

“Is that why you split up?”

“Uh ... yeah. Not straight away. We kept it going for a while. Hayato is ... he is good company, and he’s a nice bloke. Like I knew he was only thinking of us, but I couldn’t do that. I was too focused on what I wanted.” He huffed a breath through his teeth. “He gave me an ultimatum, and I chose volleyball.”

“Oh.” Suga’s hand furled round Daichi’s arm. He took a while to reply, maybe waiting for Daichi to continue. “Um, well, you shouldn’t really give an ultimatum if you’re not prepared for the outcome, so ... uh ... I don’t think you have anything to feel guilty about, Daichi.”

Daichi cut across the sympathy. “I felt relieved. I should have ended it sooner, but I took the coward’s way out. And ... yeah ... there was a part of me who clung on to the relationship because moving to a big city can be very lonely at times, but I should have ended it sooner and not waited for Hayato to make the decision.”

Suga had looked away, so Daichi very gently blew across his forehead, causing some of the quicksilver strands to flutter. As Suga looked up at him, he lowered his head and slowly kissed him on the forehead, then his nose, before finally pulsing to his mouth. “I’m not in love with him, okay.”

“He understands you,” Suga said, drawing back, but he started to trace Daichi’s lips with his fingers. “He seems nice, obviously cares or he wouldn’t be here, and he plays volleyball.  He fits in with your world, Daichi. You wouldn’t have to explain everything three times over to him.”

“And he never tried to kill me with cake, but I guess I don’t know what’s good for me,” Daichi joked, trying out a smile. He held his breath, and then smiled wider when Suga giggled. “I don’t know what you mean about not fitting in with the team, because I watched you tonight, and ... Suga, you slid in like a hand in a glove.”

“Me?” His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Really?”

“Yeah. Even Shimizu-san commented on it. She said you were a Crow, already part of the family, and she’s the owner’s daughter so isn’t going to say that lightly.” He snuggled closer, his hand back on Suga’s waist, fingers twisting in the hem of his silky shirt. “You handled Futakuchi perfectly – he can be such an arse. But really it was Yamaguchi.” Suga looked puzzled. “He’s the young kid, not drinking, quite shy.”

“Ah, Tadashi-kun. He’s so, so sweeeeeet.”

“Mmm, and barely talks to any of us. But he smiled with you and relaxed.” Pausing to kiss him again, delighting in the immediacy of his response, Daichi clasped Suga tighter. “As I said,” he whispered, “you’re amazing.”

“He’s shy, that’s all,” Suga opined when he pulled away. “And he’s very cute.” He giggled when Daichi mock-frowned. “He did love his cake-pop.”

“They all did,” Daichi affirmed. “What you witnessed tonight was grown men loving the fact that they could behave like kids.” He nuzzled Suga’s fingers. “Cute, huh?”

Suga sighed and assumed a dreamy look. “Adorable. He should have his own cheer squad. OW! Don’t nip.”

Daichi growled, made as if he was going to bite again, and then pounced, wriggling his fingers around Suga’s waist, tickling him slowly at first, then digging in as soft giggles turned into shrieks.

“GET OFF ME! NOOOOOOO!  Daichhiiiiiii!”

“Adorable?”

“YES!” Suga was defiant, still laughing and arching his body as he desperately tried to escape, his hands raised to push Daichi off. “VERY!”

“CHEER SQUAD?” He intensified his tickles as Suga’s shirt gaped, riding up his stomach, exposing the pale soft skin and a tiny smattering of moles on his waist. His breath hitched, caught in his throat, and there was a very real struggle to breathe, as all thoughts of tickling and laughter were lost. Instead all he wanted to do was place his lips to Suga’s stomach and ...

_‘If we’d taken it slower then ...’_

Suga’s words flooded his mind. He pulled away.

“Giving up, Dai-sensei,” Suga teased, tiny breaths gurgling through his lips.

“Ha ... yeah,” he joked, and poured out two glasses of wine. He took a slug of his drink before handing one over to Suga. “You win. You can lead Yamaguchi’s cheering squad.”

“Me?” Suga shifted to sitting and held out his hand for his wine. He chinked Daichi’s glass. “Hmm, I thought I’d be _your_ cheerleader, Dai-chan. I ... um ... would like to come and see you – when the season starts. Only if that’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” He beamed at him. “I’ll force Hajime to come with me so I cheer in the right places.”

Still grinning, Suga gulped at his wine too quickly and started to choke. He coughed and the glass jerked causing a cascade of red wine to pour over his front.  The blue silk now splattered with dark red, clung to Suga’s chest.

“Ooops!” He patted at the shirt, pulling it away from his skin, and again it rode up his torso.

Daichi’s mouth dried and he looked away.

Maybe it _wasn’t_ too soon. Maybe Suga was ready to move this forward. Daichi knew he certainly was. It was just ... just ... He swallowed at the realisation, but the truth was that in the five weeks he’d known Suga, he’d become increasingly important and he didn’t want to rot that up.

That and Suga was clearly not sober, and despite his laughter, had only just recovered from a storm of tears and revelations.

“Agh!” he grumbled. “I am such a klutz.” Putting his glass on the floor, Suga got to his feet, swaying a little and then with fumbling fingers began to undo each button.

“Suga ... what are you ... uh ...?”

“This is new,” he explained, frowning as his fingers caught on the third button. “And it’s silk. Red wine is so hard to get out unless...” He reached across and picked up the other bottle. “Is this soda?”

“No, it’s-”

“I expect it’ll work just as well,” he muttered, not listening. As he twisted off the lid, the water fizzed up, frothing over the rim to land square in Suga’s face. He shrieked, then started to laugh again. “Oh my, I don’t do things by halves, do I?”

Biting his lip as he tried and failed to keep a straight face, Daichi peered up at a dripping with both red wine and water soaked Suga. Belatedly he stood up, and placed his hand on his back and steered him towards the door.  “Go to the bathroom and get yourself a towel.”

“But I’m wet through, and I really do need to soak this stain out. Red wine is such a pain, almost as bad as fruit –“ He stopped talking, increased his concentration on the last buttons then giggled when one shot across the room, pinging against the door. “Oh poo!”

Facing Daichi, his shirt undone, he giggled again, as bubbly as the water he’d soaked himself in. And it was those giggles, and the way he was flicking his wet hair off his face, that made Daichi’s heart leap to his throat. But Suga wasn’t sober, and as much as he wanted to push him back to the sofa or carry him off to bed, Daichi knew _he_ had to be responsible.

“Leave the shirt in the bathroom. I can get it cleaned in the morning.”

“Oh... OH!  Great idea. This is just like me getting your jacket cleaned, except-” Suga chewed his lip and tilted his chin to the side. “it’s my fault again, so you can’t pay for it. Also I can’t go home without my shirt. I’ll be arrested or something.”

“Borrow one of mine,” Daichi rasped. He spun Suga around again, propelling his towards the door, anything to stop himself from gawping at Suga’s midriff and the faint, fair hair delineating ... _No, get a fucking grip!_

“’K,” Suga replied. Faltering a little as he tried to remember which way the bathroom was, then with an ‘ah-ha’ and a quick look back over his shoulder to flash Daichi a smile, he left the room.

“Oh. My. Fucking. Hell!” Daichi sat heavily back on the sofa, exhaling loudly. His wine was undrunk; he took a sip, then decided against any more. He stared at the wall, a mantra hammering in his mind, ‘take it slow, take it slow, take it slow.’

Then Suga reappeared, tripping back into the room, looking half happy, half ashamed as he flipped the hair off his face, and Daichi was lost again.

He’d changed out of the blue shirt, telling Daichi he’d left it to soak in the sink, and although he had borrowed something of Daichi’s, it wasn’t the overlong or too baggy and utterly sexless sweatshirt, Daichi had hoped for. Instead, he’d picked up one of Daichi’s training shirts – black and orange – the colour of a crow. It was too big, dropping past his waist and to his thighs, which was good, Daichi thought, but at the same time, it was too big on the top, one side slipping off his shoulder, exposing his collarbone and in particular one mole at the vee of his chest.

Suga took one look at Daichi’s face, obviously misconstrued his expression and sank to the floor. “I’m a disgrace.”

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

“I am. I drank too much.” He peeped at Daichi through his lashes. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“No, never.” Getting off the sofa, he shuffled across the floor to Suga. “You had fun,” he said, giving him a little kiss on the cheek, “and everyone adored you. My team are astonished at my luck, okay, so never say you’re a disgrace.”

“I don’t usually,” Suga explained and sighing, he flopped forwards, resting his head on Daichi’s shoulder. “But I was nervous about the cake and the team and all the volleyball things. And then I sort of forgot to eat, so it all went to my head. And it’s hitting me now.”

It was so easy then to wrap his arms around Suga, holding him so close he could smell the scent of his hair. Daichi nuzzled his ear, and whispered again how everything was fine, how the evening had been great, and how happy he was to have met him.

“I think it’s entirely possible that you’ve changed my life,” he confessed as he stroked his hair.“And very much for the better.”

It was when he heard a sniffle that he leant back and squinted down at Suga, scared he’d upset or embarrassed him. And then he smiled ruefully, because Suga wasn’t crying at all. Instead, he was asleep.

“You are incorrigible, Sugawara Koushi,” he whispered. “What am I going to do with you now?”

But there was only one option. With Suga’s history of back problems, Daichi’s modernistic and stylish but horribly uncomfortable sofa was out of the question. Gently lifting Suga into his arms, he carried him across the hallway, and kicked open his bedroom door.

“Wasshppnin?”

“Go to sleep,” Daichi whispered as he covered him up.

“Where ‘m I?”

He tucked him in, allowing his fingers to stroke Suga’s hair.“My apartment.”

“Your bed?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll take the sofa.”

Suga snuffled and turned over, his back to Daichi, so after a few seconds, Daichi stepped away.

“Silly.” Suga’s voice reached him just as he reached the door.

“What is?”

“You can’t sleep on it, you’re too tall.” Suga muttered. His eyes heavy, and now yawning, he was clearly fighting sleep.

“Well, _you_ can’t,” Daichi replied gently. He took a pace back into the room. “I ... uh ... could get you a cab, or call Saeko. She’ll take you home.”

“Nooooo, I’m comfortable,” Suga said, and rolled over again, opening one eye. “You come here.”

“Um...”

Suga started to hiccup again. “Like a sleepover.”

“Suga, I ...”

Sighing, Suga stared at Daichi, a frown creasing his brow. He pushed out his tongue, then with the sort of immense precision and care a person only took when drunk, he slid his legs out of the bed. “I’ll have to take the sofa then because you won’t fit. You have very, very, very long legs and –” He shook his head as if to clear it, “and thick thighs. I mean muscular thighs, so you must have to stretch out or you’ll get cramp. And that will be my fault because... um ...” He stood up, beamed at Daichi, wavered, then dropped back to the bed. “Sorry, gimme a minute, and then I’ll move.”

“Stay where you are,” Daichi tried to be firm but laughter was bubbling inside of him. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Suga continued to shake his head long after he’d stopped speaking obviously feeling he had to emphasise the point. “If you get injured, your team will never forgive me.” Falling backwards, he patted the other side of the bed. “Look it’s huuuuuge. You won’t even know I’m here, Daichiii.”

He yawned, belatedly covering his mouth with his hand, and rolled to one side. “I’m a bit pissed, so you’re ferpectly safe. I mean perfectly. And I don’t snore.”

It was a big bed. And Suga was now hugging a pillow far on one side. _If_ Daichi slept with him – ‘with’ as in shared the same space – he could quite easily stick to his side of the bed and not touch him at all.

“You have to, or else I’m walking home,” he muttered and pouted.

Chuckling, Daichi wandered across to his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of shorts and a t shirt. “I give in. Go to sleep, and I’ll clear up and join you when I’m ready.”

“That’s better,” Suga said, his voice heavy. “See you in a bit, Dai-chan.”

He took his time in the bathroom, washing, flossing, then brushing his teeth, before getting changing.  He loitered a little longer, giving Suga every chance to crash out, but when he couldn’t wait any longer, because he was now yawning his head off, he pushed open the bedroom door and crept in.

Suga was still curled into his pillow, his hair shining in the moonlight. Giving him a faint grin, Daichi slithered into the bed on the opposite side, and gave a last yawn.

It would be fine now. Suga was asleep, his breaths even, so Daichi relaxed and thought over the events of the evening.  At how perfect everything had been, and fun. Yeah, he’d had fun tonight, in spite of Hayato appearing out of the blue. But even that had worked out okay because he and Suga had cleared the air, and a little bit of the jealousy he’d felt towards Oikawa had melted away.

“Good night, Suga,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.

“Night,” Suga murmured back. He rolled over, stretched out his hand and touched Daichi on the arm.

“Thought you were asleep.”

“Nearly.”

He heard the faint whisper of the sheets as Suga moved across, his limbs ungainly. And then his hand came into contact with Daichi’s chest, and his head joined Daichi’s on the pillow.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said. “I really have had a good time.”

“You are very welcome,” Daichi whispered and kissed him on the cheek. Then, with a great deal of effort, he pulled the quilt further around himself, creating a thin barrier between their legs. “We should sleep.”

“Mmm, good idea,” he replied.

_Okay, so he’s touching my chest but this is fine. We’re both tired, and I’ll soon drop off._

“Daichi?”

“Yes.”

“I still have my jeans on. I must undress.”

_Help!_

He screwed up his eyes, not daring to look or move, but alongside him Suga was wriggling as he slid off his jeans and chattered a bit as he did so. It was when he heard the flump as Suga dropped the jeans on the floor, that Daichi dared to breathe again.

“I have some shorts if you want to borrow.”

 “S’cool, I can sleep in my boxers,” Suga chimed.  He flailed his arm, once again curling it across Daichi’s chest and then raised his head. “In the morning.”

“Mmm?” Daichi kept his attention on Suga’s face, not looking at all at his neck, or the gape where the shirt had fallen off one shoulder. “What about it?”

“I’ll make you a fantastic breakfast. But I should probably sleep first or you’ll end up with burnt coffee.”

 _Burnt coffee?_   Daichi wanted to ask, but it was too late, and probably not a great idea to question Suga at this point, not least because he’d inched even closer, his head nestled in the crook of Daichi’s shoulder, and was happily asleep.

For possibly the twentieth time that night, Daichi tried to work out what he’d done to deserve all of this. The most beautiful man was currently snuggling up to him in bed – that was a major plus indicating he must have done something really good in a former life. But on the other hand, Daichi was beyond turned on, and couldn’t do a bloody thing about it.

“I guess I was a cockroach after all,” he muttered.

 

***

It was after five in the morning that Suga blearily opened his eyes. For a second he was confused, but as he tried to swallow away his dry throat, it fell into place.  He was in Daichi’s apartment. In his bed having drunk rather too much the night before.

“Oh hell,” he muttered. “What did I say?”

He patted his body. _Okay, no trousers on, and ... that’s not my shirt. No, that’s fine, I remember putting that in to soak._

The first light of dawn was peeking in through a gap in the curtains, and unable to put it off much longer, Suga rolled over to face Daichi.

Except he wasn’t there. Suga sat up gingerly, tested his head by shaking it, surprised but pleased that it didn’t hurt. But he needed a drink, so getting up, he padded out to the kitchen.

Daichi wasn’t there either. Nor was he on the sofa. Or in the bathroom. Puzzled, he sipped his water and wandered back to the bedroom. It was as he was settling back into bed that he saw the note on Daichi’s side (he giggled a little at the thought they had sides) and quickly ripped it open.

_‘Gone for a jog. I’ll pick up breakfast. Sleep well. Dxxx’_

He sighed. It would have been nice to wake up to Daichi beside him, but he guessed if he had an exercise regime, then Suga couldn’t complain. He settled back to sleep, grateful that he wasn’t having to get up early for a change.

It wasn’t the morning sunshine that woke him at eight, more a sound from the kitchen. Not that it was loud, but there was a clang and then a muffled type of curse emanating from the room. Tentatively, Suga crept out of bed, along the hallway and peeked into the kitchen,

Daichi was leaning over his table as he mopped something up. Staying where he was, Suga watched as he wrung out a cloth, then took his cup over to the coffee percolator to pour himself a fresh cup. He didn’t add milk, or sugar, and didn’t move back to the table, instead he stood by the window, staring out at something Suga couldn’t see.

He was still in his jogging kit, black shorts and a red vest top, and from where Suga stood, drinking him in as the sun highlighted the definition of his body, Suga felt his insides contract, especially when Daichi lifted the mug to his lips, flexing his arm.  He flicked his attention downwards.

His back was broad. Suga remembered waking in the night to find Daichi turned away, and he’d reached out aching to touch him, but the Dutch courage of alcohol had waned by then, so Suga had lain on his back and stared up at the ceiling. If Daichi hadn’t taken the hint when he’d snuggled up to him, then trying again when he was asleep was clearly not a good move.

_Maybe he’s uptight, or unsure about us._

Tilting his head to the side, he couldn’t stop the automatic smile as his gaze switched to Daichi’s firm arse atop his muscular thighs (Oh my god, I called them ‘thick’, he remembered). His shorts were slightly _too_ short, exposing not only the expanse of leg, but a tan line across each one. Suga took a quick breath, then another, trying to control the sudden thump and skip as his heart leapt from his chest to clog his throat.

Daichi’s head twitched, alert at the noise.

“Um... hi,” Suga offered, taking one hesitant step into the kitchen.

“Hey there!” Daichi span round, slopping some of his coffee onto the floor, and to Suga’s relief there was an immediate smile on his face.  “Ack, second time today. Excuse me a minute.  Sit down while I mop this up and I’ll fetch you something. Uh ... coffee?”

“Um...”

“I have tea, if you prefer.”

“Tea would be great,” Suga agreed.  He didn’t sit, but hovered a little closer. “Good jog?”

“Yeah, not bad.” He rolled his shoulders. “Needed to clear my head.”

“You were ... um ... out a long time. I woke at about five.”

“Ah, no, about an hour and a half. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I sat in here.”

“Ah.”

Feeling horribly tongue-tied, Suga shuffled forwards. He still didn’t sit, but leant against a counter top, looking around the kitchen at everything except the man currently standing by the kettle.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Daichi stopped mid pour and faced him. “What for?”

“Uh, you not being able to sleep. I ... um ... talk in my sleep sometimes. Also I used to sleepwalk. Did I do that last night?”

“No...” Daichi grinned lopsidedly. “You were fine. I didn’t hear a peep out of you, except you were mumbling about burnt coffee.”

“Oh, burnt coffee.” Suga laughed. “Despite my training, I have been known to ruin coffee. Tooru says he can’t trust me with anything but instant.”

“You run a cafe.” Daichi shook his head in bewilderment.

“Yes, but I only make the cakes and serve the customers. Kageyama and Yacchan brew the coffee,” he deadpanned, before giving Daichi a smirk. “Okay, that’s a lie. In college, I had a bad reputation because I broke three coffee pots leaving them on the percolator. The coffee evaporated and they smashed.”

Daichi snorted. He carried over two cups, placing both on the table, then gestured for Suga to sit. _At least the seats are next to each other._

“A good run, then?”

“Yeah, not bad. Are you going to sit down, Suga?”

“Um...” He inhaled, and although he could feel a blush stealing across his cheeks, Suga faced him dead on. “Are you okay with me crashing out in your bed?”

“Uh...” Daichi stared at his coffee, taking a sip. “Yeah, it was fine.”

 _Obviously not._ He cringed remembering the attempted embrace, where Daichi had taken forever to reciprocate. _Hell, did I come on too strong?_

 “I really didn’t want to put you to any trouble,” he continued, “and your sofa is fine for ... um ... a kiss and a cuddle, but –” Daichi stared at him. Suga swallowed. “But for sleeping on? I didn’t want you to have to do that. So I’m sorry again.”

Daichi cut across the apology, raising his hand to place on his shoulder. “Suga, there wasn’t a problem. You didn’t wake me up. You didn’t talk or walk in your sleep. I just ... had things on my mind, couldn’t concentrate, and thought it was best if I got out the apartment in case I woke you up with my restlessness. ”

“Things on your mind?” He gulped a little, and although he didn’t want to say anything, he couldn’t help it when Hayato’s name tripped from his lips.

“Hayato?” Daichi shook his head. “No, it had nothing to do with him.”

_Why is this so awkward? It’s not as if this is a one night stand. Was it so awful sharing a bed with me? Oh, hell, I was crying all over him last night. No wonder he’s put off._

“Shall I leave and let you get back to sleep?” he asked, a little sadly.

“Hey.” Putting down his coffee, Daichi reached across to stroked Suga’s cheek with his thumb. Almost instinctively, Suga turned and pouted his mouth into Daichi’s palm. “You don’t have to go. Not unless you want to.”

“I just...”

“Just what?”

“Seem to have disrupted your life a little and driven you from your bed if you got up to jog. Was I that disturbing?”

“Uh ... well, n-not exactly,” Daichi stammered.

“Then I was.”

“No, no! I ... It was me, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

Wincing, Daichi took a breath. “Oh god, look, please, _please_ don’t think badly of me, because I know you want to take this slow, but sharing a bed, especially when you were a little bit drunk and being kind of ... _affectionate_ was ... hard ... all right?”  He rubbed at the back of his head, adding wryly, “In more ways than one, put it that way. I’m sorry, Suga, I shouldn’t have stayed in the same bed.”

_Oh ... OH!_

Suga felt his lips twitch, and the knot of tension bunched at the top of his back fell away. He took another step closer, this time raising both his hands and entwining them around Daichi’s neck. “There’s a difference between taking it slow, and moving at glacier pace, Daichi,” he murmured.

“Huh?” Daichi didn’t speak, but his jaw fell open.

“I wouldn’t have minded being woken up,” he continued slowly, and pressed his body closer.

“I...I’m horribly sweaty,” Daichi rasped, but his hands were already sliding to Suga’s waist. “Can you give me five minutes to shower?”

It was about taking a chance, Suga knew that, but really he didn’t think this was a risk at all, not when he could feel Daichi breathless against his neck as he slowly started to move against him. “How big is your shower?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this sort of cliff better! 
> 
> (Next chapter, our pair might finally live up to the 'sexual content' tag)


	9. Mexican Chocolate Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover exactly how large Daichi's .... shower is :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mexican Chocolate Cake is spicy. 
> 
> Aaaaand there's a little nod to one of my cheerleaders and inspirations for all things Daisuga.

Daichi hadn’t needed any further hints, subtle or heavy-handed, and taking Suga at his word, had led -part dragged - Suga across the hallway and into the bathroom. They entered slowly, kissing as they stumbled over the doorway. Suga’s shirt from the night before was still soaking in the sink. There was an array of bottles and soaps across the bath ledge, cologne on the windowsill, toothpaste and a toothbrush neat in a pot on the sink. At least Suga assumed everything was there, but the pictures in his mind became a blur as they scrambled towards the shower, Daichi sliding open the door with such force it rebounded and closed again.

“Smooth,” he muttered and paused, swinging around to lean against the glass and holding Suga at arms’ length. “You sure about this?”

He tried to think of some smart remark, like a ‘never been more sure’ or ‘been waiting to clean you up since I covered you in sugar’ , but Daichi’s look of lust mixed with tenderness left him breathless and all he could do was nod dumbly. They stared at each other for a few extra moments, then worried he’d chicken out, or Daichi would reconsider, Suga reached across and slid his hands under Daishi’s vest top.

“Can’t go in with clothes on,” he mumbled.

“Neither can you. Come here,” Daichi replied. Deftly removing Suga’s shirt, he turned round, slid open the door and reached up to turn the shower on.

“Um... shorts?” Suga queried.

“Might be a good idea.” Daichi’s gaze was searching, intense, but then he switched from Suga’s midriff, and to his face. “I’ll ... uh ... get in first, shall I?”

With his back to Suga, Daichi stepped out of his shorts. His arse was every bit as firm as Suga had imagined (and yes, he had imagined it quite a lot lately) and without thinking he ran his hand across one buttock, caressing the dimples that appeared when Daichi clenched.  He stopped, reached around to take hold of Suga’s wrist and pulled him closer. “Come on,” he said, looking over his shoulder, “the water’s warm - let’s make it ... uh ... steamier.”

Needing no prompting, Suga waited only to slither one-handed out of his boxers. He kept his head tilted upwards, concentrating on Daichi’s face, the parted mouth, the sparkling droplets in his hair and eyebrows, the  water cascading down over his shoulders, chest, torso and ...

“Oh wow.” The words caught in his throat, for Daichi was every bit as muscular as Suga had imagined, with a thatch of dark hair starting on his stomach glistening with the moisture, welcoming him in.

“Jeez,” Daichi muttered, his eyes similarly trained on the lower areas of Suga’s body.

And Suga felt as if he should be embarrassed, or ashamed even, because Daichi was in such good condition, tanned and toned to peak fitness whereas he was skinny, pale and with moles scattered across his skin, that the pair of them couldn’t compare. But there was no insecurity or sense of inferiority that he’d felt in the past because Daichi’s expression, and the way its intensity deepened, was screaming long forgotten appreciation and lust.

He looked down again, a twitch on his lips as he took in the physical manifestation of Daichi’s arousal, equal to his own, and stepped right up to him.

“Still sweaty, Dai-chan?”

“Uh... I guess.” Daichi fumbled with something on the shower shelf. “Shower gel or soap?”

“Surprise me,” he laughed.

Smirking, Daichi flipped open the shower gel lid, squirting some on his hand. He made as if he was going to wash himself, but then smeared the bubbles across Suga’s chest, and all the while, he stared into Suga’s eyes, watching and waiting for every response.

As the smell of spice and musk filled the steam between them, his hands ran down Suga’s sides, made easier when Suga lifted his arms to Daichi’s shoulders, letting the gel bubbles slide over him as the water pelted down.

Daichi had reached his waist, slipping further downwards and over his hips, his thumbs resting on his pelvic bones, but then he moved to Suga’s back, pressing lightly before smoothing to his buttocks, almost reverentially.

Despite the roar of the water, Suga heard a faint intake of breath, and realised it was his own as Daichi’s palm slipped between his cheeks, his thumb indenting over his anus, and at that his eyes flew open.

“Sorry,” Daichi whispered, immediately removing his hand. He kissed Suga on the temple. “Tell me what you like. We can take this as slow as you want.”

“Oh ... I do like...” Leaning back, he let the water rain down on his face before kissing Daichi fully on the lips. “It’s been a horribly long time, that’s all,” he confessed.

“No problem.” Switching around, Daichi trailed his fingers to Suga’s thighs, inching to the front. And then his hand brushed against his cock, Suga twitched, and a strange strangled moan escaped from deep inside him as Daichi’s fingers began to play, to tease, to stroke, to grasp.

“This good?” 

“Mmm. But-”

“What?” Instant solicitude, he slowed his pace, fixing a troubled gaze on Suga’s face.

“Too quick. I’m ... I won’t -” Suga muttered. “S-sorry.”

Somewhere in the fug of his brain and the steam of the shower he was aware Daichi was smiling down at him, and although he wanted to pull away because he knew he wasn’t going to last, Daichi held him close, one hand furled round his cock, the other cupping his arse, as he entreated, implored and coaxed Suga towards climax.

“I should ... wait... Ohhhhhh- Daichi ... I should ... you ...”

“Go on,” Daichi urged, dropping his mouth to nuzzle his shoulder, to nip the skin along Suga’s collarbone, his tongue tracing a path towards the vee of his chest.

He quivered under Daichi’s touch, the heat of the shower nothing in comparison with the heat surging through his body as Daichi continued, his movements becoming rhythmic, his voice liquid velvet.

“Go on, Suga. Enjoy this. Go on. You’re so –”

“Oh Go-o-o-o-d.” He jerked his head back, arched into Daichi, and now his hand wasn’t enough, for even though he was on the edge, he needed more, more friction, a faster pace, something to send him over the edge because he didn’t want to wait any longer. Crooking his knee around Daichi’s waist, he began to move faster, thrusting into Daichi’s hand, and forcing the tip of his cock to work against Daichi’s torso. He could feel the scratch of his hair and then the slip of Daichi’s thumb as he loosened his grip, just a touch, to allow Suga to increase his momentum.

Daichi’s cock was alongside his now, as erect, as firm, but not close to the abyss. Suga reached down, circling his hand around both cocks, squeezing and tugging, a desperation in his actions as Daichi began to groan.

When he came it was sudden, a jerk of movements, a shudder waving through his body and then a collapse onto Daichi’s chest as his knees gave way.

“Ohhhhh,” he moaned “Oooh. That ... Ooooohh.”

“Good, huh?” Daichi whispered.

He caught his breath, opened his mouth to speak, to scream even, that yes, it was so good he didn’t think he could recover, but as he prepared his words, he was aware of one thing, Daichi was still pressed against him, and although he wasn’t forcing any sort of pace, there was an expectation now. 

_Don’t be boring._

There was a bar of soap on the shower shelf, he reached for it blindly not quite sure what he was going to do, but then holding it in his hand, he started to move it across Daichi’s chest. “What do you like?” he asked.

“You,” Daichi muttered. Suga smiled and dragged the soap down over his torso. “That’s good.”

“Must get you clean,” he said as he worked up a lather between his palms.

Sweeping his hands up Daichi’s arms, he slipped his thumbs under his armpits, giggling a little when Daichi squirmed away. “Ticklish, huh? I could get my revenge.”

But as his fingers glided across Daichi’s chest, teasing the smattering of black hair, and flicking his nipples, he felt and saw Daichi’s still erect cock flap against his stomach. That this man, this athlete, who must have been able to have his pick, who was groaning whenever Suga’s fingers edged downwards , clearly wanted Suga right here and right now with no delay, exalted him.

He dropped to his knees, sliding the soap up his legs, gripped his arse with his other hand and then started to kiss Daichi’s thighs.  Using his teeth, he gently nipped the softer skin of his inner thigh. And then, just as Daichi began to quiver, he took his cock in his mouth.  Daichi’s sudden gasp, his guttural groan gave Suga the courage to continue. And with increasing confidence, he pushed his lips further down the shaft, using his tongue to lap. He moved up slowly, and hearing a moan, he hummed softly as he hovered over the tip of Daichi’s cock, then started to nuzzle.

“Oh fuck,” Daichi keened.

Placing his hand between Daichi’s legs, he cradled his balls, letting his fingers stroke and caress, and all the while, his tongue continued to lick. And then he felt fingers fist into his hair, tugging then letting go, a half muttered sorry gasped into the wet air.

“You don’t have to,” Daichi mumbled, but there was a pleading note to his words.

“I want to,” Suga replied, though he didn’t think Daichi had heard because the next second, he’d taken him again in his mouth, hollowed his cheeks and started to suck.

At that, Daichi gave up any pretence this wasn’t what he wanted. Suga felt him slump against the tiled wall, and his hands returned to Suga’s hair, entangling his fingers in the overnight tangles as he gasped, groaned, cried and yelped above the noise of the shower. And then with several thrusts, he lowered his hand to Suga’s chin, tilting him upwards.

“I’m coming,” he groaned apologetically. “You don’t have-“

“So?” Suga laughed a little. “Let me finish what I started, Daichi.”

It took three more thrusts, two more cries of ‘fuck’, and then the fingers that had twisted into Suga’s hair, unclenched and cupped his face. “Give me a minute ... or fifty to recover, will you?”

Suga grinned up at him, loving the fact that Daichi looked so goofily sated, his lopsided smile blurred by the steam, his hair flat to his face, and the tan of his skin sparkling under the slick of soap suds and water. Never knowing whether he should spit or swallow, Suga did both then got to his feet, wrapped his arms around Daichi’s neck and snuggled into his chest.

“Was that okay?” he muttered.

“Oh, man,” Daichi gasped. “’Okay’ doesn’t begin to cover it. Out of this fucking world, maybe.”  His breathing was returning to normal, and he dropped his hands to Suga’s waist, pushing him away so he could kiss him on the mouth. “Hey, why are you looking worried?”

“Am I?”

“A little.” Daichi frowned. “Was it okay for you? I didn’t pressure you, or-”

Suga inhaled slowly and hushed him by tracing Daichi’s mouth with his thumb. “It was perfect. Thank you,” he murmured, hoping he could convey exactly how good it felt after all this time to feel so wanted.

“And it was perfect for me,” Daichi whispered then he shivered. “But it’s getting cold now, so, how about we find some thick towels to wrap ourselves in, and ... What time do you have to work?”

“Midday,” he replied.

“Good. Then I’m going to make you breakfast.”

“I said I would.”

“You also said you burn coffee,” he replied.

“Git.”

“So ...” Daichi stopped, kissed him on the shoulder then trailed his hand down Suga’s back, resting on his hip. “How about breakfast in bed?”

“Daichi!” Suga exclaimed and started to laugh. “What happened to taking this slow?”

He smirked. “I’m a volleyball player and once I’ve got my momentum, there’s no stopping me.”

***

It was half past eleven when they finally left the apartment. After breakfast, a bit of a snooze and then some more play, as Daichi liked to refer to it in his mind, he offered to give Suga a lift to Sugoi.

“Wow, flashy car,” Suga said, eyeing the black BMW with something like admiration.

“You sound surprised? Disapproving?” Daichi wondered.

He shook his head and ran his hand on the bodywork. “Umm, surprised, yes. You’re not flashy yourself, so I guess this wasn’t what I expected.”

“My weakness,” Daichi replied, and opened the passenger door. He winked, the movement causing a vague fluttery movement in the area of Suga’s chest. “Well, one of them. I like speed, although having a car like this in Tokyo is dumb because of the traffic.”

As Suga clambered in, Daichi walked round to the driver’s side, got in and then adjusted his mirrors. He wriggled in his seat, reaching down so he could push it back further. “Sorry,” he said, when the seat stuck. “I’ve only just got this back from the garage. They were ironing out some dents.”

“You had an accident?”

“Minor prang, no one hurt, although the other driver’s wallet took an almost fatal hit,” Daichi replied breezily, then kicked himself. “Sorry, that was tactless.”

“S’fine. Glad no one was hurt.”

“I was very pissed off at the time because I had to take the train to work,” Daichi said as he started up the car. He backed out, checking his mirrors carefully in case Suga was anxious. “I really don’t like Tokyo transport at all, but ... um ... there were compensations.” He flicked a look at Suga. “One in particular.”

“Hmm?”

“If I hadn’t got off the train two stops before I was meant to, I’d never have discovered a certain patisserie, and ... uh ... not come back every day for a week, and probably never have met the baker there.” He gave Suga a wink, delighted when he smiled back. “I think I should find the other driver and pay him back.”

“I never did ask why you came back,” Suga  replied. “I saw you over the road, well, we both did, and couldn’t work out what you were doing there.”

Daichi slowed as he reached the exit of the underground carpark, waiting for a space in the traffic as he nudged forwards. “I saw you setting out tables,” he admitted, then puffed out a breath. “And leaving for work was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do, I’ve gotta say.”

The blush was unmistakable, and the slight wriggle to his shoulders as he cast Daichi a hurried look before staring at his hands. He peeped sideways from under his lashes. “Really?”

“Really,” he assured him.

“It wasn’t Tooru, then?”

“What?  Are you fishing or something?”  Daichi laughed, then checked. Suga’s tone hadn’t been flirtatious, he wasn’t playing a game, but asking genuinely. “No, ‘course not!”

He shook his head, a little irritated that he had to concentrate on driving at this point, but as he reached the main road, he continued, “It was you, Suga, always you.”

He relaxed after that, settling back into his seat, flashing Daichi his sunshine smile as they chatted, and humming along to the radio when they settled into a comfortable silence.  The journey wasn’t normally long, but in the Saturday traffic it was ten to twelve when they drew up around the back of Sugoi.

“I should get inside,” Suga said, but didn’t move.

“You should,” Daichi said, but instead of clicking Suga’s door open, he leant over and touched his cheek. “Thank you.”

He didn’t ask what for, but moved towards Daichi, closing his eyes a split second before their mouths touched. His lips were warm, moist, enticing him in, and Daichi felt a stab of regret that he was about to let him go when every sense inside him screamed for Suga once more.

He heard the seatbelt unclick and then Suga shimmied across the seat and the gear lever, to land half in Daichi’s lap.

“Ouch.”

“What?”

“Steering wheel,” he muttered. “Digging in my back.”

“I’ve never hated my car more,” Daichi told him. He took a breath, pulling Suga around so he sat more fully on his lap and he could rain more pecks and kisses on his face, and began to massage the small of his back with his thumbs. “How mad will Oikawa be if you bunk off work?”

“Very,” Suga sighed, then laughed. “He’d understand, actually, but I really should go inside.”

“Why?” Daichi wheedled. “I want to go back to bed.”

“Because.” Suga stopped Daichi’s lunge by brushing his lips with his fingers.

“Because?”

“I need to keep the peace before Tooru and Kageyama destroy my cafe, and you ...” He brushed his lips over Daichi’s eyelids. “Don’t you have to meet Ikejiri-san?”

“Yeah.”  He was aware of the frown and quickly straightened his features. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“I don’t exactly have the right to complain when I’m working with my ex, do I?”Suga said, and grimacing he wriggled away from Daichi and back onto his seat.

Daichi clasped his hand, entwining their fingers together. “I’m going to meet him for coffee, that’s all.”

Suga nodded but he was swallowing and it took him a short while to answer. When he did, his tone was light, too light, and airy as if they’d been discussing laundry or something utterly mundane. “I really do have to go. Do you ... um ... want to do something another time?”

“Try keeping me away!” insisted Daichi, and this time he leant across to open the passenger door. “We could grab some food tonight if you want, or  ... uh ... sorry, is that too soon?”

“’Course not.”

 His smile was back, wide and bright and laughing, and Daichi grinned, not caring that he probably looked like the biggest sap alive. He pulled again on Suga’s arm, unwilling to relinquish him just yet, but with a gurgle, Suga slipped free.

“Text me,” he said as he climbed out the car. “I don’t mind staying in, but if Kageyama’s around, we won’t have much privacy.”

“We’ll think of something,” Daichi assured him.

 Slamming the door shut, Suga leant through the window. “Maybe not waste so much water next time, huh?”

And then he was gone, with a bounce to his step, a wave and another cheeky smile leaving Daichi staring after him, utterly smitten.

 

The lunchtime crowd at Morito’s weren’t that different from Yaku’s evening customers. There were less of them, and more were drinking coffee than sipping cocktails, but it was still a young crowd, not the sort of clientele Daichi suspected Sugoi attracted. Although as he picked at the olives and bread the waitress had left at his booth, he had a sudden hankering for something sweet. Suga’s cake, he remembered, had been like a taste of heaven on his tongue. Melt-in-the-mouth frosting and a sponge so moist it practically dripped down his throat. His mouth salivated at the thought, and then moved away from memories of last night and to the far more satisfying taste of breakfast in bed or more pertinently, Suga himself.

“Ready to order?”

He stared up, half-dazed, at the waitress as she dragged him out of his reverie. “Huh?”

Sighing, she flipped her blue choppy fringe out of her eyes and tapped her pad with a pencil. “Are you ordering anything?”

“Uh... coffee,” he muttered.

He could see her literally rolling her eyes. “What type?”

“Americano, double shot,” he said, “but ... um ... can you add a shot of caramel?”

“Don’t have it,” she replied. “I’ll bring you extra sugar if you like.”

“Yeah, fine.”

“And to eat?” she asked, exaggeratingly patient now.

“Not for me,” he replied and smiled at her. “I had a good breakfast.”

She barely restrained the huff in her voice as she flounced away, but returned a short while later with both his coffee and a small bottle of caramel syrup.

“Yaku-san found this,” she mumbled and bit her lip. “I didn’t know you were a friend of his.”

“One of the volleyball crowd,” he said.

Oh.” She stared at him blankly, nodded, then left and Daichi mused on the fact that he was once again virtually anonymous. For a week after the tournament, he’d shared a degree of attention he’d not had before, with fans and non-fans either calling or cat-calling him on the street. But now he was unrecognisable, yesterday’s news.

Hayato shuffled up to him just as he was adding the caramel. He stood for a while, looking warily around him. “Is it okay if I...”

“Sit down.”

“I didn’t know if you’d changed your mind.” Then he smiled a little sadly. “Like that’s ever happened.”

“Hayato, sit down,” Daichi repeated, and signalled to the waitress. “I’m not eating, but the food here’s decent, and I don’t mind if you do.”

“No, I’m okay,” he said, then as the waitress approached, Hayato switched on a smile, directing it at her. “I would love iced tea, please.”

She smirked back at him, and Daichi watched as her previously grumpy expression slid into an interested one when she eyed up Hayato, taking in the smart shirt he’d worn obviously thinking the place demanded a dress code. “Anything else?” she asked, but it was different to the way she’d taken Daichi’s order, a heavy hint on the anything and shooting him the sort of look she probably reserved for the evening crowd.

He was amused, sort of, but then when Hayoto suddenly flinched, he saw beyond the facade and inwardly sighed.

“I’ll ... um ... just the tea for now,” he mumbled and sank further back into his jacket.

Daichi sipped at his coffee, taking his time so he could study Hayato and not have to talk – not yet. His tactic as a player for the Crows was to pile on pressure, but somehow he didn’t think that would work with the man opposite, who despite his desperation to meet, seemed reticent now that time had come.

“You’re looking well,” he lied – because Hayato looked anything but well, with dark circles under his eyes and a thinner face from the last time he’d seen him. But then three years could change a person, he supposed, although he still had that air of bewilderment as if the world were all too much for him.

“You, too,” Hayato replied, and swallowed. “You’re ... well, you’re the same, but more so, if that makes sense.”

“Not really.”

Hayato paused as the waitress returned, and this time didn’t return the wink she gave him. “You were always confident, Dai, but now it’s ingrained in you.” He sniffed a little. “It’s like you wear it.”

“I’m captain, maybe that’s it,” Daichi replied, and wondered what to say in response because Hayato didn’t seem to have changed, still worried about the people around them, still nervously drumming his fingers on the table. “So... you wanted to see me.”

“Straight to the point.”

“Well, I’m guessing you’re not here to catch up, Hayato, or you’d have contacted me beforehand,” he said.

“I do want to catch up,” Hayato muttered. “But ... uh ... I need to talk, to tell you something.”

“Go on.” He placed his coffee cup back on its saucer and placed his hands in his lap, making himself as unthreatening as possible.

Hayato took a slug of his tea, then cleared his throat. “I’ve met someone. Well, I’ve been seeing them for a year now.”

“Okay, good.” Daichi nodded. “I’m happy for you, Hayato, but ... uh ... I don’t really see why you needed to come to Tok-”

“I’m engaged,” he interrupted, and screwed up his eyes.  

“What? Uh ... what did you say?”

“I’m engaged,” Hayato repeated, and now there was a tremor to his voice. “She’s a junior doctor at the hospital. We’ve been dating for a –”

“Year. Yes, you said,” he replied, and wondered if his expression betrayed the surprise he felt. Hayato, as far as he remembered, had never been interested in girls.

But he had in propriety.

Hayato flicked his fingers through his hair. “Oh, right. Yeah, well, we’ve been dating and ... um ... my parents and her parents, they get on, and it just ... I don’t know, it just kind of snowballed and it seemed good, okay, sort of expected, and ... and ... Daichi ... I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what I’ve done or how I got into this, but ...”

His fingers were wrapped round a napkin as he pleated and pleated it, folding over into smaller squares, then unfolding and pressing out each crease as he rattled on, somewhat insensibly, about the pressures of work, his parents plans for him and now his fiancée’s ideas for their future.

“I-I ... Th-they don’t know I’m here.”

“Who don’t?”

“My parents. You know they always wondered about you. I mean us, and I’m not sure what they’d do if their suspicions were confirmed. But I- er- we saw that tournament on television, and ... um ... well, when you came on, my mum recognised you.”

 “Oh-kay.” Daichi drank a little more coffee, hoping the caffeine would hit him soon so he could try to think clearly over what Hayato was getting at. “Hayato, why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

He swallowed, but when he reached again for his iced tea, his hands were shaking so much, it slopped over the side. Daichi leant across and removed the glass from his hands.

“Thank you,” Hayato muttered.

“Why did you want to see me?” he persisted.

“Uhhh.” He stared wide eyed at the ceiling. “More that I _needed_ to, I suppose.”

He started to ramble again, about the hospital, a promotion coming his way, the house they wanted to buy, running his hands through his hair, jitters in his voice as he skirted around and yet again failed to come to the point.

“Hayato!” Daichi snapped. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh ... yes... sorry.” He laughed, sounding bitter. “I’d forgotten your impatience.”

“You’re waffling. I like people who get to the point!” he rapped back. “Look, if this is about me telling your parents about us, then, no, that’s not going to happen. If you think news I’m gay is going to leak out, then yes, it might, but I won’t involve you, Hayato, I won’t-”

“I know you wouldn’t do that. Sorry if it sounds as if that’s why I’m here. I’m not ... I still trust you, Daichi, just ...” Hayato closed his eyes and took another, deeper breath. His hands stilled, the napkin now balled on the saucer in front of him, and then he faced Daichi. “I’m having doubts, and I needed to face up to them, I suppose.”

“About your engagement?”  Daichi asked levelly.

He nodded. “And my future. Seeing you play made them surface, I suppose.” He sighed, but not at Daichi, more at something, or some picture in his head. “I always enjoyed watching your matches. You were so focused, so determined, and it made me happy to think I was a part of that.” Then he rubbed his nose and his mouth drooped again. “Except I wasn’t really, was I? I held you back.”

Shaking his head, Daichi paused before replying, not quite knowing what to say to the man in front of him, not least because he still couldn’t understand why Hayato had appeared again. “Hayato, you of all people know that if I’m determined, nothing can hold me back.” He drank his coffee, small sips then more, until he’d almost drained the cup. “I still don’t know what you want from me,” he said, but gently and with no edge this time.

“Just ... I don’t know, Daichi,” he replied wearily, running both hands through his hair. “You were ... are ... the only man I’ve been with, and we were the longest relationship I’ve even been in.  So I thought if I saw you. Spoke to you. Then all the doubts in my mind would either disappear or become larger, and then I’d work out what to do.”

“And?”

He shook his head. “You’ll be relieved to know I’m not aching to get back with you,” he said and flashed Daichi a wry smile. “Not that I think I’d stand a chance. Sugawara-san’s a good looking guy.”

Daichi waved away the last comment. He’d been so sure this was going to be some awkward attempt at reconciliation, that he felt his very real relief palpably. Reaching over, he touched Hayato on the hand. “So, you know you don’t want me. What about your fiancée? Do you love her?”

“I -” Twisting his hand, he entwined his fingers in Daichi’s. “I do, but it’s not the same. It’s not like _us_ , Dai.”

“That was college, Hayato-chan,” he replied, his voice a whisper. “We were teenagers.”

Hayato gripped harder and to Daichi’s abject horror, a solitary tear trickled down his cheek accompanied by a sniff. “It was good, though, wasn’t it? I’m not sure you forget your first, do you?” he asked, a note of despair floating between them both.

“We had good times,” Daichi agreed neutrally. “But that was then.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hayato repeated, shaking his head. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t marry someone just to please your parents,” he said, and reaching out, he ruffled Hayato’s curls. “Just as you can’t pretend you’re straight by trying to flirt with every waitress.”

“That’s not ... I wasn’t doing that ... was I?”

“Well, she certainly thought you were,” Daichi replied dryly and removed his hand. “She probably won’t now, though.”

He blinked, now far more flustered. “Um, I think I’ll ... um ... need to freshen up,” he mumbled as he shakily got to his feet.

Daichi closed his eyes and tried to unwind. As he breathed in, the image of Suga sprang into his mind. He smirked, remembering the morning sprawled in his bed, his hand running up and down Suga’s side, luxuriating in the soft silk of his skin. And the faint blush on his cheeks when he was complimented.

Hayato returned all too quickly, Daichi heard him flopping down heavily into the seat opposite, but he wasn’t quite finished with his daydream yet, letting his thoughts drift momentarily to the sprinkle of moles on Suga’s back, and in particular one he had on his pelvic bone that-

“I missed a call,” Hayato muttered, looking everywhere but at Daichi. “From Keiko.”

“Uh... Oh, your fiancée?”

He nodded sharply, causing his curls to quiver. “I need to talk to her.”

“And say what?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. I’m still not sure what I’m doing, but what I do know is that I have to tell her about us.” His eyes flickered. “You’re not saying anything.”

“There’s not much to say.”

“I _am_ going to tell her,” he insisted.

“Uh... right. I mean, you should be honest with her if you are planning to get married, but ...” He tailed off, then drained the last dregs of his coffee. Hayato said nothing, and although he could have left it because he didn’t think Hayato wanted to hear, Daichi knew he had to continue.

“Make sure you’re telling her for the right reason, Hayato-chan,” he said softly. “If you’re only doing this so she makes the decision for you, then ... it’s not fair, okay?”

“Don’t give her an ultimatum, you mean.”

“Something like that.” Pressing his lips together, he touched Hayato on the hand. “Work out what you want first. And ... be prepared to lose.”

Hayato laughed, the sound oddly bitter. “I’ve had practise with that, Dai-chan.” He sniffed a little, then picked up his tea, taking a glug. “You and Sugawara, is it serious?”

“Uh...” What could he say? They’d not been seeing each other for long, but ... “Yeah, _I_ think so.”

Fishing some yen out of his wallet, Hayato stood up, the familiar worry yet resignation etched onto his lips. And when he spoke, it was with a sigh. “I’m pleased for you, Dai. And ... uh ... for what it’s worth, I was watching the pair of you last night, and he kind of seems to like you a lot, too.”

Daichi gulped, hoping the action would stop the blush and helpless pleasure show in his expression, but feeling his cheeks flame, he knew it was too late. “Thanks,” he muttered, shooting him a rueful grin. “And ... um ... good luck. I hope it works out for you.”

Watching Hayato leave, giving a small backward glance and a nod to the waitress, Daichi tilted his head back and stared at ceiling. It was over, he could breathe again and although he figured there’d always be a vestige of guilt concerning his relationship with Hayato, it was tinged with more fondness and less irritation now. They had enjoyed their time together, but both had moved on and once again, he knew he’d made the right decision.

He paid the bill, thanked the waitress, called out a goodbye to Yaku, then strolled out into the street. He’d text Suga in a while, reassuring him, for even though Suga had said he was fine, there was something about his tears last night that had stuck with Daichi, that and his trembling uncertainty this morning. 

“Okay, sod that, I’ll text you now,” he murmured, and went to pull his phone out of his pocket.

A hand grabbed him; a forceful set of fingers gripped his arm tight and shoved him hard against the wall. Daichi could feel the bricks scratching through his shirt, but as he lifted his arm to defend himself, to throw his assailant off, the man’s face suffused with red fury and hate, halted the attempt.

His voice hissed and seethed its anger. “Making another fucking date, are you!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN - DUN - DUUUUUUUUN
> 
> Yes, another cliff. I'm not sure if I'm getting more or less evil as I post this story.


	10. Pound Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daichi's attacker is revealed, and two people discover they share an appalling sense of humour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a pun in the title.
> 
> Also, this chapter contains one of my favourite lines. It's not in the least bit subtle, but it still makes me laugh when I read it.

It was Iwaizumi glaring at him. Iwaizumi facing him, a snarl on his lips and an expression in his eyes that spat vengeance and fury.

“What the f-” Daichi yelled, trying to throw him off.

“No, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he howled. “I saw you skulking in there.”

“EH? Skulking?  What are you on about? I was having coffee with a friend. IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!”

 “Friend, right!” spat Iwaizumi, not loosening his grip in the slightest. “Any friendlier and you’d have had your tongue down his fucking throat!”

At that, Daichi reacted, barging his shoulder into Iwaizumi. He didn’t let go, but it unbalanced him, and with the upper hand, Daichi grabbed hold of his collar.  “Have you been following me?”

“No! Course not. I happened to be here, and then what do I see, but you getting fresh with another fucking guy,” Iwaizumi snarled, and righting himself tried to press Daichi back against the wall, his temper not at all abating when Daichi span around and reversed their positions.  His voice rasped. “You fucking hurt Suga, and I’ll fucking smash your fucking teeth all over this fucking pavement.”

Daichi kept eye contact and prayed to whatever deity was watching that he showed no fear, because a riled Iwaizumi, he was starting to realise, wasn’t going to back off in a hurry, and was clearly not about to see reason.

_Which means I have to,_ he assessed _._ _But if I let go, he might swing out at me._

“Hey, HEY! What’s all of this?” A figure skeltered towards them. “Sawamura, what the hell are you doing? And you, Iwaizumi, isn’t it?”

“Uh...”  Iwaizumi flicked his attention to the newcomer. “Yeah, Yaku-san.”

Yaku Morisuke, one hundred and sixty five centimetres of righteous fury and temper, wrenched at Daichi’s arm, planting himself between the warring pair. “Let go!” he ordered.

“He started it!”Daichi retorted.

“You’re here with another guy!” Iwaizumi seethed. “Suga’s my friend!”

“For fuck’s sake, are you both five? You got a beef, you don’t do it outside my place, not unless you don’t want me kicking your arses!” remonstrated Yaku, and reaching up he grabbed their hair, tugging as he hauled them back towards Morito’s front door. “Or, you can come inside and talk about it properly. GOT THAT!”

Daichi nodded dumbly. He’d never been on the receiving end of Yaku’s anger, but Kuroo spoke of him with ungrudging respect, and warned whoever was listening never to tangle with  ‘Yaks’.  Beside him, Iwaizumi seemed to sense the bar owner’s intent and slackened his grip.

“S’pose we could talk,” he conceded, adding mutinously, “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, Sawamura!”

“The only hook will be a right one - from me, if you keep that attitude up,” Yaku reiterated. He tugged their hair again, then released, using his hands to shove them through the door. “Sit down, order some food and talk!”

“I’m not hung-” Daichi muttered.

“Then don’t eat it, but you’ll order something, Dai-chan. What do you think this is? A fricking counselling service!”

It was Iwaizumi who snorted first, then dodged the hit from Yaku and slid back into a booth. He looked far less angry now, far more like the guy who’d taken care of Suga in the bathroom. He was still scowling at Daichi, his brows one thick dark line across his forehead, but there was less rage in his expression, and his chest wasn’t heaving, the fabric of his shirt creased but still.

“I won’t let you hurt Suga,” he warned, his voice far more terrifying now he was calm. “I don’t care how fucking big a hotshot you are, or what type of trouble it gets me into, but if you’re fucking him around, I will fucking break your bones.”

“Iwaizumi!” Yaku shouted, but Daichi hushed him.

 “Let’s get three things clear,” he said slowly, assuming the same tone he used when discussing team tactics with an overexcited Noya. “One,” he ticked off on his fingers, “I have no intention of hurting Suga. Two, Suga knows I was meeting Hayato-san, who is an old friend of mine. Three ...” He stared deep into Iwaizumi’s eyes, fixing him with the steeliest of gazes that he usually reserved for an opposing team’s Ace (or Kuroo when he really pissed him off). Iwaizumi’s left eye twitched a little and Daichi smiled as he lowered his voice.  “Three, you _really_ need to extend your vocabulary, because you lose your impact after the fourth fuck in a row.”

Yaku laughed.

Iwaizumi glowered. “You sound like Oikawa. I mean it, though. If you hurt Suga-”

“And I mean it. I’m not going to. Look, I’ll be honest with you, Hayato is an ex, and he’s going through a shit time. I bumped into him last night. _We_ bumped into him last night, and I arranged to meet up. That’s all it was, Iwaizumi-san.”  He paused, and picked up the menu, giving himself something else to look at rather than Iwaizumi’s now flushed face. “Why are you here, anyway?”

He shrugged. “It’s near where I work. I was called in this morning.” With a grimace, he shuffled his hands a little. “Sorry, I ... kind of lost it, didn’t I?”

“I’ve had better conversations.”

“Yeah, well, you were touching the guy’s hair.”

Chuckling, Yaku leant over ruffling Iwaizumi’s spikes.  “Does this mean we’re dating?” He twisted them into a quiff. “Hey, are we engaged now?”

Iwaizumi scowled and pulled away. “All right, all right, you made your point.  You both have. I’m ... well ... we– that’s me and Tooru - care for Suga and don’t want to see him fucked over.”

“I don’t think Dai-chan’s capable of doing that,” Yaku said dryly. He pulled out his note pad, clearly expecting an order, before adding, “You should have been here last night, he was all over Sugawara, even when they were apart, his eyes were on him. Mind you, Sugawara barely left his side, either. Quite sickening for a cynical bar guy like myself.”

“Please,” Daichi groaned.

“Because,” Yaku continued, ignoring him. “Guys in ‘leurve’ never have big appetites. Really bad for my profits!”

“Okay, okay!” he interrupted, his cheeks flaming under Iwaizumi’s amused scrutiny. “I’ll order some food.”

“A Morito’s burrito,” Iwaizumi said swiftly, not even bothering to look at the menu. “With spicy salsa, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Daichi said, “same but the mild salsa and ... uh ... extra sour cream.”

As Yaku walked off, Iwaizumi eyed Daichi meditatively, his eyes narrowing. “In love, huh?”

“We were drinking so many Mojitos, I probably looked like that at everyone,” Daichi bluffed.

“Really...” He raised his eyebrows, then grinned a little. “A Morito’s Mojito? Hope you lined your stomach with a burrito.”

“Only incognito,” Daichi joined in. “My appetite’s so poor, it’s like I’m a mos-”

“Mosquito, yeah, I get it,” Iwaizumi sniggered. “You admit your appetite’s poor then.”

“Ha ha, I might have to veto.”

“Need to eat for your libido,” Iwaizumi countered.

“Tell that to my alter ego!” Daichi laughed, banging the table with his palm. “I’m on a roll now, let’s wear a tuxedo-”

“Go to the casino.”

“A...and... dammit, that was mine...” 

“Two Morito’s burritos, one mild, one with extra jalapenos,” Yaku said, arriving in front of them. “Uh... I’m pleased you’re not kicking lumps out of each other, but why are you laughing?”

“Nothing,” Iwaizumi wheezed. “I think I might have found an amigo.”

“Stop...” Daichi yelped, and now tears were pricking out of his eyes. “Or I’ll have to ... run ... away ... to ... Puerto Rico.”

“On... a ...” He gasped for breath...

“TORPEDO!” Daichi shouted, now laughing so hard his chest and lungs ached fit to burst.

“You do know that you guys aren’t at all funny, don’t you?” Yaku said, placing the plates in front of them.

“So Oikawa tells me every day,” Iwaizumi replied, wiping his eyes. “He thinks my sense of humour’s stuck in Dad joke league.”

“Kuroo says the same about me,” Daichi admitted.

“For once that man talks sense,” Yaku muttered. “Anyway, eat these up, and I’ll get you some drinks on the house if you promise not to fight any more.  Soft drinks – I’m not made of money. Oh, and Daichi, Sugawara left his cake box here, so can you take it back with you?”

“Sure,” He eyed his food, wondering how much he could eat to keep Yaku happy, because he really wasn’t hungry. “Suga’s been very kind about my bad jokes.”

“He’s an angel, though,” Iwaizumi argued, “I’m not convinced he could be mean to anyone.”

“True.” He gestured towards Iwaizumi’s plate. “You start. I really need to text Suga, let him know things are cool.”

Nodding, Iwaizumi tucked in, his eyes averted as Daichi pulled his phone out and started to tap a message.

**< <Things are good. Hayato’s gone now. C U later? Xxx>>**

It was only a matter of seconds when he got a response – not a text, but his phone ringing.

“Hey, Suga.”

“Hi.” He sounded a little odd, happy but there was something else.

“You okay?”

“Umm, yes, I think so. Well, yes, _I_ am – very.” He let out a breathy sort of laugh. “But ... um ... oh ... uh ... Daichi...”

“Yes?”

“Did you send Shimizu-san round?”

“Huh?”

His voice was soft, but fast, and for a moment, Daichi found it hard to follow. “Only, she turned up this morning and spoke to Tooru, and then she came back to see me. It’s ... um ... she’s only just left, so, I wondered if it was anything to do with you. Because yes, it’s really lovely of you, but um, I don’t want you to think you have to because we’re ... uh ... well, you know-”

“What are you on about? I haven’t seen Shimizu-san!”

“OH!”  He practically yelped down the phone, and Daichi could sense his smile from the fizzing excitement in his voice. “Th-then, you had nothing to do with it. Only Tooru thought you might have pulled strings or something. Not that he’s complaining, but I’d ... um ... much rather it was this way because –”

“SUGA!” He started to laugh, especially when Iwaizumi dropped his burrito. “What’s the news?”

“Oh ... er ... yes, the news. Well...” After taking a huge breath, his voice was stronger and more intelligible when he returned. “Shimizu-san wants to order more of those cake pops. She thought they were a lot of fun, and asked if we can make them regularly for the home games and also when you go into schools to talk to the kids. Something about community involvement.”

“That’s great!  Uh ... isn’t it?” Because he’d sensed some hesitation in Suga’s tone.

“Um... well ... yes, it’s fantastic, just need to ... they’re time consuming, that’s all, so it depends how many. But –” He laughed again, irrepressibly quashing any doubts. “Wow, it’s been quite a day!”

“Yeah, for me too,” Daichi replied fondly. He turned away from Iwaizumi to disguise the no doubt idiotic expression now waving over his face. “So ... want to do something tonight?”

The sound over the other end of the phone wasn’t quite what he’d hoped for - a kind of yawned yes, and then a sigh.

“Suga?”

“I do,” he said again. “I _really_ do. But ...” There was a silence, and when Suga spoke again, it was clear he’d shifted to the back room, and his voice was lower. “Things have escalated with Kageyama-kun. I doubt he had any sleep last night, and his mind’s all over the place, so I’ve told him he can move in here – at least until he finds somewhere new.”

“Ah, okay.”

“I mean, that doesn’t mean you can’t come over, or anything, but ... um ... he’s going to move in tonight. Well, he will once we can get hold of Hajime.”

“Hajime?” Daichi’s eyes darted across to his companion, who looked up.  

“What does Suga want?” Iwaizumi muttered.

“Don’t know,” Daichi whispered, hand over the receiver.

“Yes, I wanted to know if we could use a van to move Kageyama’s things. There’s too much for my car, and we don’t really want to make too many trips. Not if the landlady’s nephew is going to be around.”

“Give it here,” Iwaizumi said.  “Hey, Suga, what’s up?”

...

“We’re in Morito’s. I ... uh ... bumped into him.”

Punching his fist into his palm, Daichi mock-glowered at him, grinning when Iwaizumi snorted.

...

“Uh-huh ... yep, yep, no problem. I can get a van easily. I’ll swing round in a bit.”

...

“Nope, not necessary.  Kageyama and I can handle it. You stay where-”

“I’ll go,” Daichi interrupted. “I mean it. I’m not doing anything.”

“You hear that, Suga. Sawamura’s going to lend us his muscle – what there is of it.”

“OY!” Daichi snatched back the phone. “Sorry about him.”

Suga was laughing again. “I’m glad you’re getting along. But you really don’t have to help with this.”

“Nah, got nothing else to do, and you shouldn’t really lift anything heavy,” he replied, adding, “Not until you’ve strengthened those back muscles, anyway.”

“Ugh! Nagging me again, sensei.”

“Too right!”

Saying goodbye, not lingering because Iwaizumi was now openly smirking, Daichi hung up.

Iwaizumi was wrapping up his food, and gesturing to Yaku for the bill. “The van’s down the road, so shall we get these to go, and swing by to Sugoi for Kageyama?”

Agreeing, Daichi got to his feet, and following Iwaizumi’s example, decided to take his burrito with him.

“You might have to flex those muscles to get his deposit back,” Iwaizumi murmured, as Yaku approached. “Is that going to bother you?”

“Let’s see what happens,” Daichi replied noncommittally **.**

 

The van smelt of food – spices and something sweet – which wasn’t surprising when Daichi recalled that the first time he’d met Iwaizumi he’d been delivering ingredients. It was very clean, with no sign of rubbish on the dash, or on the floor, and this surprised him because he didn’t think of Iwaizumi as a tidy sort of guy.

Perhaps he noticed Daichi’s expression, because after chucking his jacket in the back, he commented that he was lucky this one had recently been valeted. “Dealing with food means we have to be careful.”

“Are they going to mind you moving his things then?”

“Nah, won’t be a problem. I’ll bung the guys a few extra yen to clean it again. They know me.”

“You’ve worked there a while.”

“Mmm, got the job when I moved to Tokyo, so, roughly two years.  Got promoted quickly.”

“You enjoy it?” Daichi asked, keeping his tone neutral.

But clearly not neutral enough because Iwaizumi clicked his tongue. “Does anyone?” Then he hissed a breath through his teeth. “Dumb thing to say. I’m sitting with a guy who plays volleyball for a living, whose boyfriend bakes cakes and has his own business.”

“I’m lucky,” Daichi said. “I found something I was good at and fortunately someone wanted to pay me for it. Suga, too, and Oikawa, I guess.”

“He’s certainly good at it,” Iwaizumi replied shortly, slowing as he rounded a corner.

A silence hung in the air, not remotely eased when Iwaizumi turned on the radio, letting some irritatingly catchy pop song infiltrate the van. And Daichi wasn’t sure exactly what had bothered Iwaizumi, but he’d clammed up as soon as Oikawa’s name was mentioned. Suga had said that they had a volatile relationship, so maybe they’d rowed again **.**

“Suga’s pleased we’re ‘getting on’,” he said, when the song reached it’s even more irritating chorus for the third time.

“Mmmhmm, I think there’s a plan to invite you both round,” Iwaizumi replied. He winced a bit. “Sorry, I’m not a madly social guy, beers in front of the TV, going to see a game, occasional meal out. That’s my kind of thing.”

“Me too,” Daichi assured him, and started to unwrap his burrito. “I have to do a lot of promotional shit, so kicking off my shoes and relaxing in sweats is like a luxury.” He bit into his food, taking his time before swallowing. “You know Suga well, don’t you?”

Eyes on the junction ahead, Iwaizumi nodded. “I’ve known him for five years, little less time than Oikawa has. You ... uh ... know they were together, don’t you?”

Daichi inclined his head, hoping he would continue. But instead, Iwaizumi reached across for his food. 

 “Iwaizumi-san,” Daichi said when he’d seen him swallow his third bite.

“Mmfmm?”

“You’re ... um ... well, both of you are, and Suga, now I think about it. All of you are kind of close. And ... uh ... protective?”

“Of  Suga?” He screwed up his face. “I guess so.”

“Um, and the other way around? That time with Suga’s back when he didn’t want Oikawa knowing.”

“He worries,” Iwaizumi replied, but he sounded cagey. “They are just friends now, you do know that. There’s nothing going on between them, so-”

“That’s not what I mean,” Daichi assured him, but as Iwaizumi’s wariness increased, so had Daichi’s curiosity. “I ... uh ... know I’m an outsider, but I kind of think I’m missing something in the dynamic between the three of you.”

Iwaizumi’s lips twitched. “We’re not having a threesome, if that’s what you’re worried about. And ...” He flipped his indicator, taking the next right.  “I’ve never been with Suga. He’s cute, but I have my hands full with another baker.”

Daichi rolled his shoulder, still feeling where Iwaizumi had thumped him into the wall. “You threatened me back there with no actual evidence.”

“I have apologised.”

“Mmm, I know. But ... uh ... Suga’s a grown man.”

“He can still make mistakes,” Iwaizumi muttered darkly. “And ... he’s ... Okay, Suga will kill me for telling you this, but you’re the first guy he’s been out with since ... well, let’s just say for a while.”

“I know that,” Daichi said, remembering Suga apologising and shying away when he got a little too close. “He told me this morning.”

His eyes widened and he stopped mid-chew. “Oh... right ... This morning. Whoa, things _have_ ... uh ... moved on.”

_Could say that,_ Daichi thought and gave Iwaizumi the benefit of his coolest smirk.

“God, you look like a sap!” Iwaizumi laughed.  “Well, as it’s not a secret, then I guess since the accident, what with the rehab and everything, and Oikawa and me getting together, we kind of ... I guess we are a little protective.”

“The accident?”

“Fuck! I thought you knew!”

“Yes, yes,” he sought to reassure Iwaizumi before he clammed up even more. “I know all about the accident. It was how he hurt his back, right? But ... uh ...” He held his gaze again, knowing now he was going out on a limb, but praying Iwaizumi would trust him enough to confide. “I didn’t know about the rehab. Suga hasn’t said how badly he was hurt.”

“Hurt... yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” he mumbled.

Remaining silent and unmoving, Daichi waited, recognising the very real struggle inside Iwaizumi as he tried to decide what he could and couldn’t say. 

“Um ... Sawamura-san...”

“Call me Daichi,” he said quietly.

“Uh ... yeah ... uh ... okay, this might help you understand why I overreacted and why if Oikawa had seen you, he’d have punched your lights out without asking any questions at all.”

“Go on.”

He licked his lower lip, then gnawed at it before clearing his throat. “That accident. He was unconscious, in a coma, whatever, for two weeks. Suga nearly died.”

He wasn’t hungry anymore. All he could feel was a constriction in his throat and a drying of his mouth.  “He didn’t say,” he rasped. “I thought it was whiplash, or something.”

Iwaizumi shook his head and stared bleakly at the road ahead. “Suga doesn’t remember much about the crash or the immediate aftermath, whereas Oikawa fell apart, and the only thing I could do was prop him up. And ... well ... Suga’s got a very good outlook on life, don’t you think? Nothing seems to get him down at all.”

He thought back to Suga’s smile, but then his tears of last night, and he wondered right then, just how much Suga hid from the world.

“Oikawa...” Iwaizumi continued, his breath heavy, “has this dark corner and once he gets in there, there’s very little you can do to drag him out.”

They were close to Sugoi now, and Iwaizumi’s hands were drumming on the steering wheel, impatient to get on with the task. But as they drew up outside the cafe, he touched Daichi on the arm.

“Suga helps when Oikawa has his dark days,” he murmured.

“And that’s why he didn’t want to worry him when he hurt his back?” Daichi questioned. He could feel the exasperation building inside of him, and knew as his jaw clenched that it probably showed. “It’s not that I’m unsympathetic, but aren’t they kind of ... I dunno ...  Oikawa was fine when he found out, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, yeah, Suga didn’t have to worry. Although he had a go at me for not telling him straight away.  Look ... if it’s any consolation, I know what you’re getting at and ...” He clicked his tongue. “Sometimes I think they’re too close, or rather too dependent on each other. And, no, I don’t mean sexually. I don’t even mean emotionally, but there’s a tie or two that, in my opinion, needs to be loosened or cut – for both their sakes.”

“And that is?”

He sucked his teeth. “No, no, no. Last time I got involved, Oikawa walked out on me. But I will say that you being around has kind of helped, so thanks.”

Tooting his horn, Iwaizumi assumed his mask again, then got out the van to let Kageyama in.  The apprentice blinked a little at seeing Daichi, mumbled three apologies, before climbing in the back huddling up against a flour sack. Studying him through the rear view mirror, Daichi was struck with how beaten he looked, not only tired, but lacklustre, with dark circles under his eyes and hollows in his cheek, and he could see exactly why Suga was so worried about him. He slipped his gaze downwards and grimaced when he saw knuckles that he didn’t think had been bruised by kneading bread.

“Another fight?” he asked, taking advantage of the fact that Iwaizumi had been stopped by Oikawa.

“I punched the wall. I was trying to get him to stop the music,” Kageyama replied. “He ignored me.”

“Well, he won’t ignore me, or Iwaizumi-san.”

“He’ll be asleep.”

“Not for long,” Daichi said grimly.

Peering out the window and around Iwaizumi, who was still engaged in what appeared to be a heated conversation with Oikawa, Daichi scanned the shop front, seeing a figure looming, but the person who emerged from the shop carrying a stand of cupcakes was Yachi, her blonde hair bobbing up and down as she walked.  She caught sight of him, smiled timidly, then scurried back into the cafe.

He was just pondering whether he had enough time to slip inside and say hi to Suga, when the driver’s side opened, Iwaizumi slid inside and slammed the door. 

“Okay, are we set?” Starting up the van, he let the engine rev.  “Kageyama-kun, you all right, back there?” 

“Yes.”

“Then let’s rock and roll!”

“You make it sound like we’re on a mission.”

“Hmm, could say that,” he muttered, and smiled to himself.

“Oikawa all right?” he asked, hoping he sounded mild and as if he were chatting to be polite.

But Iwaizumi was shrewd, gave him a side eye, then pressed his lips together. “He will be.”

The drive through Tokyo wasn’t a long one, but with the weekend traffic not much easier than weekday, they hit every set of lights possible. Iwaizumi’s hands began to tap the steering wheel in time to the song on the radio. He was upbeat, despite the drive and the heated words with Oikawa, like a man about to get what he wanted, or at least on the journey to make that happen.

“Let me know which house, Kageyama-kun,” he called out.

“One hundred and seven,” Kageyama said. “The one with the red door.”

The house was much like the others in the street, with no obvious signs of dereliction except for peeling paint on the lintel, and a cracked windowpane badly taped up on the room to the right. It needed some attention, though nothing too severe. But as Kageyama let them in, Daichi was caught by the smell of damp, beer and foul smelling toilets and he shuddered at the thought that Kageyama had been staying here, for although he barely knew the boy, he knew that Kageyama was a hard worker who deserved better than this. The carpet crunched underfoot, there were cobwebs in the corners on the ceiling, and someone had scratched their name on an empty coat rail.

“Was it always like this?” Daichi asked.

“Uh ... no. The landlady hasn’t carried out any repairs recently.”

“Then she can’t expect to keep his deposit,” Iwaizumi muttered. “Not even if that vase was fucking Ming Dynasty.”

There was no lift, so they followed Kageyama as he trudged up the stairs.  He pulled out a set of keys on a string, and with a wary glance at one particular door displaying a large poster of a topless girl, he crept towards his room. 

Contrary to what they’d seen of the rest of the house, Kageyama’s room was tidy. He didn’t have much, but there were no clothes on the floor, or empty takeaway cartons littering the carpet. It wasn’t how Daichi remembered his own student days, but then he’d had more books, and papers scattered on his desk. Kageyama’s books, from what he could see of them stacked on the chest of drawers, were all cookery books. There was nothing else. Nothing that spoke of leisure time, apart from an old looking Nintendo.

“What do we need to shift?” he asked, looking around. “Is the furniture yours?  Is there a TV?”

Shaking his head, Kageyama opened up his wardrobe, pulling out two plastic sacks, which appeared to hold clothes. “TV broke and I wasn’t using it much,” he muttered, unearthing a laptop from under the sacks.

“You packed already!”

Kageyama shrugged. “The room’s damp, so I needed to keep my clothes dry. It’s just the clothes, books, and the futon’s mine.”

“So this is it?” Daichi frowned. “Why did we need a van? I could have brought all this in my car, and it’s a convertible.”

“Um...” Kageyama bit his lip, but there was a glint in his eyes. “I need to take you to the kitchen.”

 

It wasn’t a matter of a few bits of cutlery, or the odd pan, but a whole cupboard full of equipment. Once he’d unlocked the padlock, Kageyama pulled out a wooden box, and placed it on the counter. “Ingredients,” he muttered. “Spices, that type of thing.”

“Sugawara and Oikawa will have these,” Iwaizumi replied.

“No.  They’re special mixes. Family recipes.”

“Sure. And what else have you got in there?”

“Uh... rice cooker, food processor, takoyaki pan,  electric whisk, set of knives, kana-ami, and ... uh ... non-stick baking trays, muffin cases-” He crouched down, “Deep fat fryer, three woks, four mixing bowls, six cake tins, and the donabe.”

“Should be able to squeeze them in.”  Iwaizumi squinted at the cupboard, and gave Daichi a grin. “Okay, let’s start in here. Dai-chan, ready to load your arms up?”

It was after he’d taken rice cooker out to the van that he heard raised voices. Iwaizumi was packing up the futon, and Kageyama was still in the kitchen searching for three wooden spoons and a spatula that he insisted he needed.  Needing no prompting when he heard a woman screech, and then another voice, lower and harsher, Daichi pounded up the front path just as someone was about to shut the door.

“Not so fast!” he exclaimed, jamming his foot in the way.

A sallow faced man with bloodshot eyes stared down at him. Unshaven and dressed in a crumpled vest top and grubby grey shorts, it was clear he’d recently rolled out of bed. “Yeah, what you want?”

“To come in,” Daichi replied, starting pleasantly. “I’m helping Kageyama-kun move out.”

“Helping him steal, more like.” The man pushed the door again, but Daichi was ready, and with a sudden shove, sent the man flying.

“Oi!”

“Shut up!” He strode past him and into the kitchen to see Kageyama standing his ground while a woman waved a ladle in his face.

“You owe me money!” she shouted. “Don’t think you can leave here taking half my possessions!”

“That’s mine!” he spluttered. “I’m only taking my things, Kino-san.”

“Aki!” she screeched, then as she turned round, she spotted Daichi. “Who are you?”

“A friend.”  He stepped over the threshold and bowed to her, taking in her age (approximately fifty, he thought from the greying hair) and the sparseness of her frame. “You must be the landlady, Kino-san. Is that right?”

“It is. Why are you here?”

“Kageyama-kun is moving out,” Daichi said, watching her expression closely. 

The woman’s eyelids fluttered.  “He hasn’t given me notice. That will be another month’s rent.”

“No, it won’t be. The place is in disrepair and – ” He searched his mind, trying to remember the phrases Kuroo had used when they’d confronted Kai’s landlord. “You are in breach of contract with your tenant. He’s moving out and would like his deposit back.”

“No. He has to pay for damages. And for cleaning his room.”

“His room’s the cleanest place here! God knows what the toilets are like.”

“He causes trouble.”

“Then you’ll be pleased he’s going,” Daichi insisted. “Now, if you would please move out of the way, so we can load the rest of _his_ possessions.”

“That donabe’s mine!” she yelled, and tried to snatch the large clay pot.

“NO!”  Kageyama found his voice, grabbed the donabe and wrapped it to his chest. “It was my grandmother’s.”

“But you broke my vase.”

“Then he’ll pay for the vase,” Daichi stated, trying to remain calm in the face of the woman’s increasing hysteria. “But you cannot simply take his things to cover a non-existent bill.”

“The vase was expensive,” chimed another voice. “And he gave me a black eye.”

“Which I hear you deserved,” Daichi replied. He glanced over his shoulder, and seeing the sallow man from earlier creeping up from behind, he dodged the hand trying to grab him. “Tsukuda -san, is that your name?” 

He grunted a yes, looking a little surprised at the respect in Daichi’s voice. Surprise that Kageyama appeared to feel too.

But then Daichi knew it was easier to trap hornets with honey than vinegar. “Tsukuda -san,” he continued. “Kageyama is leaving here today. We are removing his things, and do not expect any trouble.”

“He owes my aunt money. And me.”

“For what?”

“For punching me.”

“From what I hear, you grabbed him first and shoved him into the table where the vase was. So, that makes you culpable,” Daichi said, grateful that the cop shows reruns he watched with Kuroo had given him a legal vocabulary.

“You can’t prove that!”

Damn!

“Well, neither can you. And unless I see physical proof that the vase was broken, then Kageyama doesn’t need to pay for that either.”

“What are you some kind of lawyer.”

“Uh...” He debated saying yes, because that might have shut them up, but then if he was caught in the lie, it could spiral out of control.

“He’s bluffing!” Tsukuda cried.

“Give me the donabe, the breadmaker, and the fryer and we’ll say no more about the vase or the black eye,” Kino-san bargained.

“No!” Kageyama protested. He swallowed, and in frustration rounded on Daichi. “See, this is what they’re like. This is what I had to put up with. And if they take all of this, then I’m worse off than before.”

A clump of footsteps up the hallway made the four of them turn around. Iwaizumi, with Kageyama’s keys in his hand framed the doorway, glaring at them all.

“I’m not getting a ticket for anyone, so let’s get a move on,” he called, his voice whipping through the air like a knife. He flicked his attention to Tsukuda. “You giving us a hand?”

“No, why would I?”

“Then get the fuck out of my way,” he retorted, and barged past him. “Kageyama-kun, I think your room is clear, but go and check. Sawamura-san and I will finish in here.”

“But-”

“Do it,” he murmured, and took the donabe out of Kageyama’s hands, with very little resistance on his part. “We will sort things out. Okay?”

“HE OWES ME MONEY!”

“No, you owe him his deposit,” Iwaizumi replied as he faced down Kino-san. “He’s a kid, and I won’t let you bully him.”

“A kid. He hit me!” Tsukuda complained.

“He was cornered and at the end of his tether. What do you expect?” Daichi argued.

“I am not giving him his money back. We have an agreement, and he’s walking out.”

_Because you drove him to it,_ Daichi thought darkly. But here was the impasse, for Kino-san was entitled to Kageyama’s deposit in lieu of rent, even if she was instrumental in him leaving early.

Sensing his hesitation, Kino-san grabbed the carved wooden box of spices and the set of knives. She grinned malevolently. “You can’t prove these aren’t mine. Aki will swear on it. Or he’ll beat some sense into you!”

“Yeah, sure.” He was bolder now, fully awake and looking into his eyes, viewing his bulk, Daichi perceived both the idiocy and power of the bully he truly was.

And in his book, there was only one way to deal with bullies. He stepped up to him. “You want to take me on, do you?  Because that’s what this will amount to if Kageyama doesn’t get his possessions and his deposit back.”

“You threatening me?” Tsukuda laughed.

“I’m telling you what will happen,” Daichi explained. He stepped back a little, and with deliberation turned his face towards Kino-san and Iwaizumi. “We’re taking Kageyama’s things and will wait around for his deposit. It’s up to you, but I wouldn’t rely on brute force and threats from your dumbass neph- AGH! ”

That did it. That final dig, coupled with Daichi’s best arrogant captain pose caused the already hungover and thwarted Tsukuda to snap. His fist landed on Daichi’s cheek, and a split second later, he was sprawled on the kitchen floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, clasping his hand to his face. “Fuuuck, that hurts. You’ve bro-” No, he wouldn’t be able to speak if he’d broken his jaw. “You’ve split my lip,” he amended, grateful there was some blood. “And-” He sat up, tentatively rolling his shoulder, then creased up his face. “Ahh, it hurts, it hurts. My boss isn’t going to like this _Hajime_ , help!”

Iwaizumi was stunned. His face blanching as he stared down at Daichi, unable to move.

_Come on, work this out,_ Daichi tried to transmit telepathic waves, then touched his shoulder again. “You ‘bumped’ me to the ground really hard. Like a ... torpedo?”

Iwaizumi’s face cleared. He smothered a smile then dropped to the floor. His expression as he looked up, was a mask of anger. “Do you know what you’ve done?” he seethed. “Do you know who this is?”

“Huh?”

“He’s the Crows’ captain. This is Sawamura Daichi. And you’ve  flattened him! Jeez, your actions could put him out for half the season. What the fuck. How’s that going to look? I hope you have insurance because treating a top athlete like this isn’t cheap!”

“Huh?  Who is he? You’re bluffing,” Kino-san declared and poked Daichi with her foot. “Get up!”

But Tsukuda’s face suddenly looked green. “Oh .... fuuuck! It IS you. I was at the tournament. I saw you. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh ... I’ve ... I’ve hurt... Dai-chan.”

“So! I’m not paying his medical bills. He didn’t have to be here,” she snapped, sounding waspish, but her hands were clenching round her arms now, and her eyes flitted around the room.

“You were heard telling your nephew to beat him up,” Iwaizumi said, his voice so controlled and commanding, that Daichi knew he had to have watched the same shows as he did. “The Crows aren’t going to look happily on that. Or the police.”

“He’s in my house! And how do I know you’re really who you say you are?  You might be a lookalike!”

“Room’s clear,” Kageyama interrupted, and oblivious to the tension stumbled into the room. “Are you all right, Sawamura-san?”

That clinched it. Kageyama’s use of the name affirming Daichi’s identity, caused such a shockwave to run through Tsukuda that he leant heavily against the table, gulped then reached towards his aunt. “You can’t get the police involved. It’ll be in the papers. And – and –and ... I’ll be banned from games. He’s a really popular guy. Okay, he’s no Bokuto,”  Daichi grimaced at that, which made his lip hurt more, “But the crowd love him. Please, please, don’t cause trouble for me, Aunty. I’ve done what you wanted, and this kid’s leaving the house now.”

“Dumbass!” she snapped, and whacked him over head. “You can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?” With her hands on her hips, she glared at Kageyama, then focused her gaze on Daichi. “Okay, I’ll give you the deposit back, but you have to promise not to get anyone else involved.”

“Cash?” Daichi suggested.

“I don’t have that kind of money on me!”

“How much do you have?”

She considered. “Half cash, half cheque.”

“No, the cheque will bounce.”

“If the cheque bounces then you can call the police,” she muttered.

Daichi glanced up at Iwaizumi, wondering what to do. They could wait here while she collected the rest of the money from a cashpoint, but on the other hand, he wasn’t sure he could fake his injuries for that much longer.   “Kageyama, is that okay with you?”

“Um, yes, that’s agreeable,” he muttered, giving Kino-san an odd sort of bow.

She grumbled some more, then stomped out of the kitchen, returning a few moments later with her handbag and a scowl on her face. Handing over a wad of cash to Kageyama, she then wrote the rest out in cheque form.  “Go!” she snapped. “And don’t come back. ANY of you.”

 

It hadn’t taken long to reassure both Kageyama and Iwaizumi that he was fine apart from a split lip, and they returned to Sugoi in high spirits. But now, having been sat in an armchair and ordered not to move, he faced Suga in the upstairs flat as he tended to his face, and knew he’d be less easy to pacify.

 “I _am_ okay. He had a good a hook on him,” Daichi conceded, “but I’m always getting whacked with volleyballs, so it wasn’t that much different.” He tried a wink. “Plus I saw him coming, so I kind of dodged a little.”

“Hajime says you practically invited him to hit you.”

Daichi smirked. “Yeah, could say that.”

“Idiot!” he snapped, and straightened up.

“Hey, hey, don’t say that.” He reached across, grabbing Suga’s hand to pull him back to the armchair. “It was worth it. He’s out of there now, and he has his money – well, most of it.”

“And if the cheque bounces and she realises you’re not that badly hurt?”

“Um, well, we’ll have to deal with that if it happens,” he muttered.

_“We?”_ Suga sighed, but didn’t pull away, instead he leant closer and dabbed again at Daichi’s lip. “You don’t have to get involved in all this.”

“I am involved,” he replied mildly, then catching Suga’s hand, he took away the antiseptic soaked cotton wool, and dropped it to the floor. “As I’m a conquering hero, can I claim a kiss?”

“Ha, you’ll be lucky. I need to work. Tooru’s already-”

Right on cue a voice floated up to them, getting louder as footsteps approached. “Koushi!  Koushi, you are needed! Yacchan’s shift is over and we’re rushed off our feet.”

Sighing again, Suga attempted to get to his feet, but Daichi clung on tight, holding him on his lap. “You mad at me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t like seeing people hurt, that’s all. Especially when I lo... uh ... when ...” Now more than flustered, he shook his head.  “Um, I mean, when it’s my fault they got in that situation anyway.”

“Hey,” Daichi trapped Suga’s hand, bringing it to his mouth and not caring in the slightest that his lip still stung. “It was my fault. And I’m not even badly hurt. Okay?”

“You’re holding in a wince. How do I know you’re not concussed?”

“Because,” Daichi murmured, moving his free hand behind Suga’s neck to pull him closer. Their mouths touched, and Daichi slipped his tongue through his teeth to slowly lap at Suga’s top lip.  “If I were seeing double, then would I be able to this?”

“KOUSHI! – Oh!” Oikawa stared at them, and then a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. Not a pout or a smirk, but something that looked genuine. “Tell you what,” he murmured, “I’ll offer Yacchan an extra shift and leave the pair of you alone.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang it, Daichi musta swallowed some smooth pills.
> 
> See, no evil cliff this time, just some nice fluffiness so you can enjoy your weekend. 
> 
> Iwa-chan, obviously, no one else swears quite as much as he!


	11. Blondies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a morning together doesn't quite go as planned. But it's agreed that friends are horribly embarrassing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another favourite line (or two) in this, that legit makes me tear up when I read it.

There was a smell of bread baking when Suga opened his eyes. Safe in the knowledge that with Kageyama already at work he could have at least another half an hour in bed, he turned over.

A hand fumbled for him and Suga smiled.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” Daichi whispered back.

“Breakfast?”

He shook his head. “I’ll eat on the way,” Daichi replied.

“Tea, then?” Suga said, starting to wriggle towards the side of the bed.

But Daichi’s hand tugged gently on his arm. “Rather be doing something else.”

“Oh.”

The sheets ruffled as he moved back towards him, exposing Daichi’s bare chest, and unable to stop himself, Suga stretched out, running his fingers from the curve of his shoulder and down to the sprinkling of black hair over his torso.

“Thank you for staying over,” he whispered. “I know your place is more comfortable, and you could have had a lie in, but-”

Daichi hushed him by trapping his hand. “I like waking up with you, so I really don’t care where that is.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Um...” He twisted around to check his watch. “Forty minutes. I have to swing by Semi-san’s first.”

“He’s your new Setter, right?” Suga queried, picturing the tall blond he’d met briefly at the party.

“Mmm, I said I’d drive him as it’s his first time at a Crow training camp.” With a soft grin, he kissed Suga on the palm of his hand. “So ... what can we do in forty minutes?”

“Twenty-five,” Suga amended. “I will have to get up at some stage. I can’t leave everything to Kageyama.”

“Then why,” whispered Daichi, “are we wasting time talking, when we could be ...”

As he inched closer, his thigh prying Suga’s legs apart, Suga felt a warm glow in his stomach. He leant over, pressing his mouth to Daichi’s temple, then pecked a few kisses down his nose, finally reaching his lips. He sucked a little and nuzzled with his teeth, listening to the faint rumble in Daichi’s throat when he ran his hands down his back.

Daichi gathered Suga in his arms, dragging him close, flipping onto his back, so Suga was on top and astride him. Gripping Suga around the waist, there was no disguising the lust flaring in his eyes.  He looped his thumbs in the waistband of Suga’s shorts, pulling at the elastic until the top of his cock emerged. With a smirk, Daichi licked his thumb, then began to rub it over the tip.

Suga writhed.  Under his ass, he could feel Daichi’s burgeoning erection, and he moved along its shaft, hearing the stay of breaths and then groans beginning to emerge from Daichi’s mouth. His hand burrowed inside Suga’s boxer’s grasping his cock, while simultaneously wriggling out of his own underpants, kicking them on to the floor, then tugging Suga out of his.

“No,” he said, when Suga furled his hand around his cock. “I’ve got this. Come here.”

And then he sat up in the bed, hauling Suga to his chest, hoisting him so he was on his knees. Daichi kissed his stomach, his hands smoothed over his ass, and then his mouth enveloped not just the tip of Suga’s cock, but the shaft as he licked.

And as Daichi sucked, Suga braced himself against the wall letting the slow warmth wave through him. Daichi’s teeth began to nuzzle now, his fingers stroking Suga’s ass and pulling him closer.

“Daichi... I’m...” He closed his eyes stretching out his neck as he tilted his face to the ceiling. His breaths became rapid, light, gasping. It was quick, all too quick, and he wanted it slower, but at the same time, he was racing to finish. Then Daichi moved one hand to his cock, gripping hard, letting his lips massage while he pulled him up and down, soft urgent words spilling into the air.

“Go on, Suga. Go on.”

Feeling a surge within him, he arched his back.

“No, no. Stop!”

“Go on, go on,” Daichi was murmuring.

“DAICHI!” he screeched.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, breaking the connection as he flicked his eyes up to Suga. “Go – Suga ... _Suga,_ what’s wrong?”

“My back,” he wept. “My bloody back. I felt it. I felt something go.”

It was a matter of seconds before Daichi reacted, but it felt like the longest seconds of Suga’s life. Curling his hands around him, Daichi gently but firmly lowered him onto the bed, stomach down, and pressed the flat of his hand into the small of his back.

“Same place?” Daichi asked.

Suga half nodded, trying to relax because if he tensed he knew it would feel a whole lot worse, and whilst not ridden with the sharp stabbing pains from the last time, he could feel a spasm followed by tingling.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be daft.”  His hand increased the pressure, its warmth flooding through Suga, easing every stress.  “It doesn’t feel as tight as last time.”

It was a balance now, a toss-up between the twinge niggling to nothing, or erupting into full-blown inaction like last time.

“It’s not,” Suga agreed. “A-and it’s easing now.”

“Is your medication in the bathroom?” Daichi asked.

 “Yes, but ...” Shaking his head, Suga inhaled deeply, relieved to find the spasm was dissipating, “they space me out.”

“So?” And then he gaped. “Suga, you are not seriously going to work.”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He blinked and then gave Daichi a tiny grin. “I’m okay, honest ... ahhh ...” Gingerly he stretched, but the spasm had gone and the only sign there’d been a problem was a pinching pain, and Daichi’s hand still massaging his back.  “I’m glad you’re here,” he muttered. “You’re definitely a miracle worker.”

Pulling on his boxers, Daichi raised his eyebrows. “Pain relief. Where do you keep that?”

“In the kitchen. It’s in the cupboard to the side of the sink.”

“Wait there,” he snapped, then rolled his eyes. “Not that you’re going anywhere, are you?” His tone blunt, he left the bedroom returning a few moments later to place a glass of water and two tablets on the bedside cabinet.

“Sorry,” Suga said, staring up at Daichi.

“Don’t apologise. At least ...” He groaned and sat heavily on the bed, then twisting his head around he smiled ruefully.  “Don’t apologise to me – it’s you that’s suffering.”

“You’re annoyed with me, though.” He stretched out his hand, touching Daichi on the thigh. “This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for this morning, was it?”

“Stop it,” he said. Then plying Suga’s hand off his leg, he gave it a squeeze. “I’m not annoyed about that, okay. But ...”

“What?”

“You _have_ to exercise, Suga,” he said, and shuffling back onto the bed, he returned his hand to Suga’s back. “I don’t mean jogging or heavy sessions at the gym, but you have to target these muscles and strengthen them.”

“I know.” He bit his lip, then peeped up at Daichi from under his lashes. “I get distracted.”

Clicking his tongue, Daichi smoothed Suga’s hair off his forehead, dropping a kiss on his temple. “I’m going to tell Kageyama you’re laid up.  And then I’ll call Oikawa.”

_Ah, here it is._ “No.”

“Suga, you can’t pretend nothing’s wrong.”

“Not Tooru.” He clutched Daichi’s hand, his voice fierce. “I mean it. Look. I’ll take it easy, I promise. I’m not even here this afternoon because I’m meeting Shimizu-san. And tonight I’ll have a bath and I promise to do all the stretches you told me about.”

“Suga, you can’t-”

“I have a back support!” he urged, and willing himself not to flinch, he swung his legs off the bed.

“You’re not going to listen to me, are you?” Daichi replied, sounding resigned.

 Suga closed his eyes. _Please don’t argue over this_. “Daichi, I don’t want Tooru knowing. It’s important.”

“He found out last time,” Daichi muttered.

“Last time I was a lot worse, so it was inevitable.  Come on, I can move,” he pleaded, wiggling his toes and trying a smile, which faded when Daichi glared back.  “I need things to remain on an even keel, especially with Kageyama here, so please, _please_ don’t say anything.”

Daichi stared at him mutinously, and for a moment, Suga thought he was going to refuse especially when he reached down to the floor and picked up his phone.

“Please _, don’t,”_ he repeated, tugging at the phone.

“I’m calling Semi,” Daichi muttered. “He needs to know I’m going to be late.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not promising anything,” he replied as he scrolled through his contacts. “Get that back brace on and I’ll think about it, okay?” He paused and held the phone to his ear. “Hey, Semi-kun. It’s Sawamura. Yeah, look, I’m going to be delayed. Don’t worry, I’ll square it with Ukai...”

...

“No, I’m fine. Something came up. I’ll get to you as soon-”

...

“Oh, yeah, actually that could help. I’m not at my apartment though, but there’s a train stop really close.”

...

“Or a cab, yep. Ask the driver to take you to Sugoi Patisserie.”

He rattled off the address, absentmindedly stroking Suga’s hair. “See you in ... half an hour?  That okay?”

...

“Great. See you then.” Turning back to Suga, giving his hair another quick ruffle, he sighed. “Right, where’s this back support?”

Hazarding a guess and hoping Daichi didn’t realise because it had been a while since he’d seen the back support, let alone used it, Suga pointed in the general direction of his chest of drawers. He stretched slightly, testing his back, pleased that after an initial stab, nothing appeared to be seriously wrong.

“Eureka,” he heard Daichi mutter as he opened the third drawer.

Relieved it was there, Suga watched as he unearthed it, tugging at one of the straps. With a last heave, he liberated it from under several old t-shirts.

Along with something else.

Something boxed.

Never opened.

Unused.

Which landed on the floor between them.

“What’s this?”

“Noooo!” Suga whimpered. “It’s... it’s nothing.”

“Uh...” Daichi picked it up, his face incredulous. “It’s a ...”

“Not mine!” Suga replied. “I mean, yes it is in my drawer, but ... um ...”

“You’re keeping it for a friend?” Daichi said and started to grin. “Or is this a sideline, Suga?”

“It’s ... um ...” He frowned, wondering of it was possible that Daichi had no idea what was in the box. Whether he could get away with pretending it was some new-fangled cooking equipment. Anything to stop the fifty shades of red his face was currently flushing. Because as he’d never opened it, what was to stop Daichi thinking it was a recent purchase?  And what if he now thought that Suga thought they needed to spice up their sex life before it had barely started, or ... or ...

“I can see what it is, Suga,” Daichi said, and started to chuckle. “You own a vi-”

“A vibrator, yes!” Suga cringed. “It’s ... yes, I guess it’s is mine, but it was a present, and ... um ... I’ve never used it. Look, see, it’s not even open.”

Daichi’s mouth was twitching, and although Suga could see the effort he was putting in to stifle a laugh, an odd snort escaped from his nose. “Very useful,” he said gravely.

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, trying to sound airy. “As I said it was a present – in fact it was Tooru’s dumb idea of a gift. I forgot I actually had it!”

“Oikawa.”  The blunt tone was back as Daichi’s hand tightened around the box.

“It’s unused,” Suga reminded him. “Last New Year, he handed this to me. Beautifully wrapped.” He faltered still trying to work out whether Tooru had been mocking him or in had, in his odd way, been trying to help. 

_‘You need to get some practise, Kou-chan.’_

Daichi coughed and placed the vibrator back in the drawer. “Kuroo buys me far worse,” he said with a slight grin. “One time he even booked an appointment for a piercing.”

“What sort...OH!”

“Friends are pretty shit, aren’t they?”

“Very embarrassing,” Suga agreed fervently.

“Yeah, they are.” He chuckled then picked up the back brace. “Why don’t you get washed, then I’ll help you into this?”

 

Strapped into the support, then slipping into a pair of light cotton trousers, a loose darker coloured shirt, and then his apron over the top, Suga examined himself in the mirror studying every fold and tweaking where necessary so there was no hint of the brace underneath.  He was putting on his shoes when Daichi wandered back from the bathroom, a towel around his waist and a few stray water drops glistening on his chest.

“Ugh!”

“Hmm? What’s up?” Daichi asked, using another towel on his hair.

“Bloody back.”

“It’s hurting again?  Lie down, come on, I’ll call Oikawa this time, get him in to-”

“No, it’s not hurting!” Suga exclaimed. “I’m annoyed that it stopped us this morning. And I’m even more annoyed that you manage to stroll back in here looking –” he huffed out his cheeks  and fanned his face,“ - looking so hot, and I can’t do anything about it.”

Grinning, Daichi stepped behind him, then wrapped his arms around Suga’s waist. “Good last night, though, and this morning would have been a beautiful bonus.”

“Hmm, but with you going away... a week is so long,” he protested.

“Five days. I’ll be back on Saturday.” He dropped his head onto Suga’s shoulder, and started to kiss him. “We can do something then.”

“You won’t be too tired?”

“Probably, but ... uh ... we don’t have to leave the apartment. In fact, I might be so tired, I can’t leave the bedroom.”

About to soft punch him, Suga’s hand was stayed by a noise downstairs. It was a door rattling, probably the front, and then Kageyama’s voice grumpily shouting that they were closed. But the knocking didn’t cease.

“That could be Semi,” Daichi muttered. “I better go.”

“Coffee first?”

“Um ... no time.”

“To go, then,” Suga replied. “On the house, I promise.”

He followed Daichi down the stairs, taking each step carefully, relieved that the movement wasn’t affecting his back in any way. But it was when he got down the stairs that his breath caught in quite a different way.

He’d met Semi Eita at Daichi’s party, but maybe because there were so many people to meet, or because he’d had a few drinks, the man hadn’t made much of an impression on him.  They’d not exchanged many words, and Suga hadn’t thought much about him apart from a vague feeling that Semi couldn’t think what to say, which Suga had put down to him being shy rather than offhand. But now ...  now watching Semi enter the shop, dressed in dark blue jeans, purple shirt (not even a tee, but something smart and crisply ironed)  and a black leather jacket, he felt his insides hollow.  Semi Eita had the kind of looks Suga had always envied. Yes, they were both blond, but Semi’s face looked as if he’d been sculpted, in comparison, Suga felt as if he’d been rolled out from icing.

“Sawamura-san,” he began, his eyes flickering to Daichi who was pulling on his shoes. “Am I too early?”

“Nope, you’re fine. We’ll grab some coffee and go, okay?”

“Is there time? Won’t Ukai-san be expecting us?” he asked, studiously ignoring Suga.

“It’s a coffee shop, I think Suga can rustle us something up,” Daichi replied, sounding mild. He reached out and pulled Suga towards him. “Did you meet at the party? This is Sugawara Koushi. Suga, this is Semi Eita.”

“We did,” Suga replied.

“Mmm, I think so,” Semi said. His eyes narrowed, and for the first time he took in his surroundings. “Oh, you’re the cake maker. _Sweet_ idea.”

He felt a faint bristling down his spine and wondered if he’d imagined it, but had there been any need for the man to sound quite so patronising?

“Team loved it,” Daichi said, just when the silence had begun to stick. “And I swear Bokuto’s still got his owl. He’ll be bugging you for more.”

“He was a darling,” Suga beamed. “I’ll make more owls only for him.”

And then he knew he wasn’t imagining anything because Semi’s arched eyebrows and the half-smile playing on his lips, reeked of mockery.

“I’ll get your coffee,” he muttered, breaking away from Daichi’s grasp. “Americano?”

“Mmm, please. Semi, what do you like?”

“Do you have chai tea?”

“Of course.” He twisted away to the coffee maker, and then he could feel the twinge in his back again, but determined not to show any flicker of emotion, Suga steeled himself by taking a large breath. “Dammit,” he murmured when the water splashed into the first cup.

“Problem?”

“Mmm, water’s not hot. Kage -” he started to shout the apprentice’s name then checked himself. Yes, Kageyama should have turned the machine on, but it was hardly fair to bawl him out in front of a stranger. “I’ll fetch the kettle. You can still use the cups.”

“Might as well use a roadside cafe, mightn’t we?” Semi interrupted. “Time is getting on, Sawamura-san.”

“Sure.” Reaching into his jacket, Daichi picked out his car keys and threw them to Semi. “Car’s out the back. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

It was when he’d gone, leaving the shop empty so the only sounds reaching them were the hum of the morning traffic, and Kageyama clattering around in the kitchen, that Daichi wound his arms around Suga.

“I have to go,” he murmured. “But before I do. I want to thank you for last night.”

“But not this morning?”

Daichi screwed up his nose. “That could have gone better,” he said, and pulled Suga closer, his hands flat on his back. “Please take care of yourself, and if anything hurts, then get help, okay?  And if that means shouting for Oikawa, then do it. _Please_.”

He felt a lump solidifying in his throat, scratchy and hard, stopping him from forming a comprehensible sentence. Because when all was said and done, the only thing Suga wanted to say was ‘I’ll miss you.’

And how had it come to this?  How had Sawamura Daichi burrowed his way so deeply into his life that the idea of five days apart barely two months after seeing him on the other side of the road, was anathema to him?

“I know it sounds in every way dumb and sappy and ...” Daichi gritted his teeth, holding Suga tighter. “I _am_ really going to miss you, Sugawara Koushi.”

“Me too,” Suga rasped, and started to sniff. “I can call you, can’t I?”

“Yeah, it’s not a prison camp,” Daichi joked, “but ... uh ... I can’t talk during the day, so evening, okay?”

He bent his head down, brushing his lips on both Suga’s eyelids, kissing his forehead and cheeks, making his way across the map of Suga’s face until he discovered his mouth. There was a beautiful familiarity in the way they kissed now. The way Daichi’s lips would nuzzle Suga’s apart, and then he’d pause, almost uncertainly, as if waiting for Suga’s consent, while his hands would rise to cup his face, his thumbs caressing his cheeks and jaw.

The kitchen door creaked open, the sound wrenching them apart, although, Daichi, who was facing that way, didn’t relinquish his hold.

“Sawa-chan, thank goodness you’re _up_ ,” came Tooru’s teasing voice.

Suga sighed, but didn’t quite break free of Daichi’s grasp. “You’re early.”

“Mmm, Iwa-chan has a meeting or something, and you know I hate the bus. Good job too,” he drawled, “as I think I caught a rather gorgeous looking man in your car. Why have you left him out there?  I don’t bite ... much.”

“My cue to leave,” Daichi muttered in Suga’s ear.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Suga insisted.

“I’m sure he knows the way by now, Koushi!” Tooru mocked, then he smiled fondly and not, to Suga’s surprise, with any condescension. “You’re back on Saturday, aren’t you, Sawa-chan?”

“Yep.”

“Then, come round to dinner. We’ve been meaning to ask you both for a while.”

“Um, Daichi will probably be-” Suga tried to interject.

“I’d like that,” Daichi put in, squeezing Suga’s shoulder. “Be good to have some decent food after training, and Suga says you were top of your year at catering college.”

“I was,” Tooru said, a touch wistfully. “And it’s nice to exercise my talents once in a while.”

Outside the kitchen, after giving Daichi one last goodbye kiss, Suga finally pushed him away. “Call me this evening, yes?”

“Course,” he muttered, snuggling his face into Suga’s hair and taking a deep breath.

“You don’t have to go to Tooru’s on Saturday. I can make an excuse.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Besides, you made an effort with my friends, so I should with yours. One thing in return, though ...” He pulled away and pecked Suga on his nose.

“What?” He stared up at Daichi, suspicion prickling at him.

 “Swimming,” Daichi insisted. “Think about it and we can go together when I get back.”

_Oh shit._ “Um... I don’t have swim trunks.”

“We live in the capital, Suga. I’m pretty sure there will be a sports’ shop selling some.”

_Yes, dumb excuse._ “Um, how about I concentrate on stretching and-“ He stopped when Daichi silenced him with a frown.

“Swimming is the best exercise there is. No excuses, or ...” He leant closer, a warning in his eyes. “I might let slip to Oikawa about this morning.”

“You promised!”

“I did no such thing!” Daichi said, and with a last grin, he made to step away, before halting to pluck Suga’s apron string. “I won’t say anything this time, but try swimming, yeah, it will honestly help.”

He didn’t give Suga a chance to disagree because the next moment Daichi gave Suga a last squeeze, a wave, and then jogged towards his car. Suga waved him off, blowing kisses before he remembered that Semi could see him.

***

The morning was busy, with a group of six young mothers and their babies descending on Sugoi, chattering loudly and wanting to taste everything. Suga was glad of the distraction and took care laying out small samples of each cake on one of their silver cake stands.  And he fixed his widest smile on his face as he approached them, cooing over each baby.

The regulars turned up as well, his Friday Fancies ladies, treating themselves on a Monday and mourning the fact that their cookery course had finished.

“I’m starting again in the autumn, Fujuiko-san,” he informed her. “Or you could try something new this time.”

“And maybe I’ll bring my granddaughter with me,” she replied, a very knowing lilt in her voice. “She’s still single.”

“Going to tell them you’re not,” murmured Tooru as he bustled past.

“Not sure where I’d start,” Suga whispered and inadvertently sighed.

Tooru eyed him curiously, but said nothing, instead he initiated a conversation with one of the other Friday Fancies, extolling the merits of signing up for the pastry class.

It was later, after the lunch time rush was waning, and when Suga was preparing his cake pop samples for Shimizu-san, that Tooru cornered him.

“What gives, Kou-chan?”

“Pardon?”

“You. You’re not really here, are you? Shoulders-san’s only been gone a morning. So ... do you want to talk about it? Did you quarrel?”

_Damn him._ “ No, we didn’t. And, I’m fine,” he bluffed. “Bit nervous about the meeting with Shimizu-san.”

“Rubbish. It’s not as if this is an interview. It’s only running through ideas and ...” He stepped closer, perusing Suga’s face. “You are entitled to say no. We don’t need the business.”

“Don’t we?” Suga replied. “The shop’s busy for now, but what happens when the summer ends?”

“Ah...”

Suga scowled, not liking the tone of Tooru’s voice. It wasn’t as if he’d actually said anything, but somehow he’d picked up on the uncertainty swirling in Suga’s head.

“Autumn starts,” Tooru murmured. “So, we plan accordingly.”

“What?”

“Apple pies, miniature cobblers, charlottes. Brownies,” he licked his lips, “warm from the oven. Walks in the rain.”

“Huh? What kind of cake-”

“Warming up in front of a fire. Steamy baths, days spent in bed because it’s too wet. The excitement of-”

“Tooru, what are you talking about?”

“For everything there is a season,” Tooru declaimed, hand on his heart. “Which doesn’t mean things end when the season does, but they evolve into something new.”

“What does this have to do with Sugoi and my meeting with Shimizu-san?”

Tooru leant forwards, reached out with his hand and smoothed Suga’s hair behind his ear. “Nothing, but I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you, is it, Kou-chan?” Picking up one of the cake-pops, the crow form of Daichi, Tooru nestled it in the cake box. He frowned at one of the others, examining it closely, before he wrapped it in cellophane. “Sawa-chan’s gorgeous passenger - you haven’t caught his expression at all. He was scowling when I saw him in the car.”

“Who?” Suga asked, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, Semi-san. Hmm, well, I was working from a photograph. Besides, he’ll be recognisable from the hair.” Taking advantage of Tooru’s shift of position, Suga stepped away, catching sight of his reflection in the stainless steel cooker hood. There was a smear of cream on his cheek, and chocolate powder in his hair, the lack of sleep, excitement then shock of the morning showing in the bags under his eyes.  “I need to change. Can you finish up for me?”

“Mmm, sure.” Tooru was still holding the Semi cake-pop. “It would be hard to immortalise you in cake form, Semi-san. You’re far too beautiful to be a crow.”

He must have heard the hitch in Suga’s breath, because placing the pop on top of the others, Tooru plucked at Suga’s apron string drawing him close. He swept back Suga’s hair, and stared into his eyes. “Stop worrying. Sawamura watched you for a week, and cynic that I am, he is smitten, Koushi, absolutely smitten.”

And Suga hated the fact that a sob had stuck in his throat and that under Tooru’s gaze, his cheeks were reddening.  “What do you know?” he mumbled.

“Oh, Kou-chan, where did all this insecurity come from? Look in the mirror,” Tooru whispered, and with his thumb, he smeared the cream from Suga’s face. “How could anyone _not_ adore you?”

 

After a quick wash, careful not to dislodge the back brace Daichi had strapped him into, Suga rifled through his wardrobe, pulling out a barely worn lilac shirt that he hoped looked professional. Wasting a few seconds more on scowling at his reflection and then sucking in his cheeks to assume a haughty expression, he snorted at his idiocy, before grabbing his car keys and jacket.

The traffic was lighter at midday, and thanks to Daichi’s instructions on the shortest route, Suga arrived early for his meeting with Shimizu-san.  Daichi had said she worked on the floor above him, and although she kept up formalities in the office, she was approachable enough if spoken to one-on-one.

“Don’t worry about it,” he’d told him. “Remember she came to you, okay? And she likes you.”

But all the same, Suga wished it was Tooru here and not him. Or Hajime, both of whom had a far better grasp of business than Suga had.

He took a moment to breathe as he faced the building, calming his nerves and a heart that had started to thump uncomfortably when he’d arrived.  And then, as his eyes scanned the windows, he caught sight of a poster stuck in one of them, and quite out of place in this glass monolith, where everything gleamed in the harsh summer sun.  He focused in, and felt the corners of his mouth curve upwards because whoever worked in that office had decided to decorate the space with pictures of the Crows. And although he could well have been wrong, thinking that the window was one Daichi would look out of gave him a feeling of peace and confidence.

“I’m here to see Shimizu-san of Crows PR,” he told the receptionist.

“They’re on floors four and five,” she replied, as she tapped into her computer. She grimaced apologetically. “I’m sorry but I’m new here, so I don’t know which her office is, but if you give me a minute, I’ll try ... to ...” She grimaced at the computer screen. “Stupid thing. How do I get back to -”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find her,” he replied, and with a wave headed towards the lift.

He was still early, and not sure what to do, whether business etiquette meant he should wait in the corridor, or should have stayed in reception. But it was too late now, and as the doors pinged open at Level Five, Suga determinedly stepped out of the elevator.

Or tried to. For the next minute, a figure swinging a basket bowled into him, sending Suga sprawling back into the lift. 

He didn’t fall, managing to steady himself against the elevator rail, but the cake box, the carefully packed white cardboard box, flew into the air, rebounded off a wall and crashed to the floor, where its fate was further compounded when a basket of sandwiches landed on top.

“OH OH OH!!!  I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. What have I done?” squealed a boy crouching down and scrabbling to pick up the sandwiches. “Please, please, let me help you.”

“Hinata-kun?” Suga asked, peering down.

The red-haired boy stared up at him, shock mingled with what could have been relief flooding his expression.“S-Sugawara-san... why are you here?  Sawamura-san is away.”

“Mmm, I know. I’m here to see Shimizu-san. I’m ... um ... supposed to be bringing her some cakes.”

“Oh ...” Hinata’s eyes widened. “Is this about your cake-pops? Dai-chan, I mean Sawamura-san told me they were a hit at his party. He even saved me one.” He beamed at the memory. “It was yummy, but a real shame I had to eat it.” And then the sunshine smile fell from his face. “Is that a box of them?”

Suga nodded and then lowered himself down to the floor. The box hadn’t broken, but was out of shape, with the top dented and one corner crushed.

“I am so sorry,” Hinata repeated, his voice trembling. “Are they gonna be okay?”

“Um, not sure,” Suga replied. Tentatively, he slid his thumb underneath the seal and ripped it off. “Moment of truth, Hinata-kun.”

“I can explain. I’ll go and see Shimizu-san myself and tell her it was all my fault,” he started to babble.

Flipping the lid open, Suga surveyed the damage. The packing had helped as had the cellophane around each pop, but there was no denying that the top layer had taken the brunt of the damage.  Giggling in spite of the situation, Suga picked up the topmost cake-pop and twirled it between his finger and thumb. “Semi-san’s taken a ball to the face,” he whispered, “but I think the others are okay.”

Shimizu-san’s door was ajar when he approached, and as he was still early, Suga loitered in the corridor watching Hinata as he popped in and out of each office, greeting everyone with a grin and a bow – no matter their status.  It was something he wasn’t sure you could teach –this ease of being with other people.  Hinata had it, Yachi, too, and Tooru had the capability to keep whatever audience was in front of him amused with his charm, when he put his mind to it.

He glanced up the narrow corridor, the artificial light not negating the oppressive atmosphere, and wondered how people worked in this sort of environment. Interacting with customers, getting to know their tastes and foibles so he could create especially for them (even the Friday Fancies) gave him not so much a buzz as a warm feeling, the tingle of knowing his worth.

 “Sugawara-san, would you like to come in now?” Shimizu’s soft voice interrupted his reverie, but with a smile, all nerves gone, he nodded.

“Good luck, Sugawara-san!” called Hinata. “And sorry again!”

“It’s not a problem, Hinata-kun,” he replied, and waved goodbye. “Make sure you call into Sugoi any time you’re passing, and maybe I’ll have some more cake-pops for you.”

“You know Hinata-kun?” Shimizu asked, gesturing for Suga to take a seat.

“Mmm, through Daichi, of course. He’s a good kid, I think.”

“He makes his presence known,” she replied mildly as she took her seat behind her polished desk. “All right, could you show me your samples?”

Swallowing, Suga opened the box, explaining as he did so about the mishap in the lift. Shimizu nodded, and picking out a few of the pops, she laid them out on the desk.

“These are very good. I recognise them all. You’ll need to keep changing Nishinoya’s hair, though, he dyes it a different colour every month. I love the way you’ve made Daichi look so responsible – something about the arms, I think. Oh, and the Yamaguchi – he looks as if he wants to fly away.” She lifted her head up. “These are perfect, Sugawara-san, just what I’m looking for.”

He cleared his throat, shifting a little nervously on his chair because perhaps now it was crunch time. “And ... um... what exactly is it you’re looking for, Shimizu-san? Only ... we’re not a big operation at Sugoi and these can be a bit time-consuming ... I would hate to let you down, so maybe I need to ... um ... pull out now before ...because making them for your home crowds-”

“Oh!”  Raising her hand, she silenced him. “Sugawara, I’m not  thinking that big. Really, I’m not.  This is more of a few smaller events. The thing is, I’m trying to promote The Crows in the community. We’re a small club, and our fanbase is already split between the other Tokyo teams, so what I’m planning is a few trips into schools, or training sessions here with the kids. Dai-chan works hard on the promotion side already, and he’s a superb ambassador for both us and volleyball as a whole. But, the thing is, with his new responsibilities as Captain, and probable call ups for the national team, there’s a danger he’ll be spread too thin.”

He listened carefully, taking in everything she was saying with a slow-growing awe enveloping him. Of course, he knew Daichi was important to the team, that he was respected in the game – Hajime had told him as much – but this was something else.  The way Shimizu-san talked about Daichi, his intensity and passion, was almost terrifying. That he ... that ‘Dai-sama’ had been in his bed that very morning seemed like a dream. Certainly, Suga was having trouble reconciling what he knew with the man about whom she was waxing so lyrical.

“In a nutshell,” she finished. “Dai-chan is our strongest link, but I need to promote some of the other guys. Nishinoya’s popular –Futakuchi less so. Thing with Futa-kun is that he polarises opinion.” She shook her head, rather flustered. “Anyway, you don’t need to know my marketing strategy. What I’m looking for is one hundred or so of these cakes when we go into schools.”

“Um... every week?” he asked, trying to work out the logistics. It could be done, especially if he roped in Tooru, and maybe Kageyama, but then it would eat into spare time, which was already going to be strained when classes started.

But Shimizu was shaking her head. “Not that often, I’m afraid.  We plan on visiting a school every month.”

“Ah.” He knew he should keep the relief off his face, but it was hard not to when he saw his free time galloping back towards him.

“Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all. I’d need a week’s notice, so I can plan things. And ... um ... let me know who you’d like, and how many.”  He chewed at his lip. “I could make them generic crows, or maybe volleyballs in Crow colours.”

“I can give you the whole schedule now,” she said, and rifling through a folder, she handed him the paper. “As far as the figures go, that might change as we divine their popularity. We have new and untested players.” Pausing she picked up a belligerent looking Tanaka.  “This guy, for instance, it’s touch and go. He might scare the kids off, or he might just be the one who inspires them. Our new Setter, however ...” She picked up the squashed Semi. “Very glamorous. He’s going to be a bigger hit with the girls. Shame he was damaged.”

“I ... uh ... will make another one.”

“That would be good. I want pictures on the website and the promotional flyers we hand out at the schools.”  She stopped speaking, picking out something else from the folder and spreading it out on the table. “Here’s an up to date photograph of Semi-kun if you need it. Do you need any others? I have shots of them all. Although,” she reddened slightly, “I don’t expect you need one of Dai-chan.”

Staring at the photograph of Semi, Suga was again assailed with doubt. He looked so ... strong ... so in control... so ... so unlike Suga. And now, Shimizu was fishing out the picture of Daichi, also strong, his arms folded across his chest, the intensity of his gaze scorching into Suga’s soul.

“If I market this right, I think we have the makings of a dream duo,” she said.

“Duo?”

“Mmm, Semi has a lot of experience; he was stifled at the Eagles, though. If he does well in the opening matches, then there’s a good chance he’ll become Vice. But ... uh ...” She pressed her finger to her lips. “Keep that under your hat, will you?”

“Sure,” he mumbled.

Fortunately, the meeting didn’t last much longer, fortunate for Suga whose mind was a confusing jumble of images gazing up at him. Shimizu mentioned a price, which he agreed to without haggling because of the daze he was in. But it seemed fair, and more than he’d have asked for (although Tooru would no doubt have told him to double it).

A cake box lighter, but now carrying a cache of photographs, he left Crows PR and headed back to Sugoi. There was little to no traffic, so no time to go over things in his mind. Instead, he plastered a smile on his face, greeted Tooru and Kageyama with enthusiasm, gave the barest details of the meeting, then headed to the kitchen.

“I’m going to practise,” he told Tooru. “Let me know if you need me in the shop.”

Although it was as if he’d swallowed acid, Suga pulled out the photo of Semi and propped it against the kettle. The pops didn’t have to be lifelike, it was a matter of taking a feature or two and moulding the melted candy onto the cake. For Daichi that had been arms across his chest, and tiny sideburns. For Futakuchi, he’d twisted the mouth into a smirk, and flicked his hair over his eyes. But for Semi... where did he start? Cheekbones, mouth, scowl... Mmm, definitely the scowl. And the hair – that was recognisable, white blonde with black tips, falling into perfect spikes, accentuating the slanting eyes and sculpted cheekbones.

Suga flipped his hair off his face, soft and impossibly fluffy, it couldn’t compete.

_‘We have the makings of a dream duo.’_

_Suga_ couldn’t compete. The guy was not only stunning, but a volleyball player, an athlete. Everything Suga wasn’t, and Daichi would realise that so very soon, no matter what Tooru said. He was probably chatting to him now, drowning in those devastating eyes and regretting he’d ever met Suga.

Wrenching open the fridge, he pulled out a bowl of the cake mixture and squidged a lump of it between his hands.

“You’re an idiot,” he chided himself, his voice cracking.“He’s out of your league, but you had to go and ... and ... fall in love, didn’t you? Dumbass, Koushi, dumbass!”

And then he heard a noise, a sound that surprised him because it was still the afternoon, but that was his phone, and that was definitely the ring tone he’d set for Daichi.

He ran to the bench, not even bothering to wipe his hands down, and grabbed the phone.

“H-hey!” he cried. “Ummmm, how are you? I thought you couldn’t call till the evening.”

“Ahh, I snuck away. I’m supposed to be checking our equipment,” Daichi’s replied, sounding hesitant. “Wondered how the meeting went with Shimizu-san, that’s all. And ... uh ... don’t want to nag, but how’s your back?”

“It’s good,” Suga said, keeping his voice light. “We have a contract for the cake-pops and ... um ... my back is fine.”

“Good. And that’s great. I’m so pleased for you, Suga.”

“Mmm, I’m ... um ...” His throat closed, but it was as if some devil had got a hold, compelling him to speak. “I’m trying to make Semi-san at the moment. The first one got squashed.”

He heard a kind of grunt, and a rumbling growl at the other end of the line and held his breath, wondering if he could divine from Daichi’s tone exactly what he was thinking.

“Squashed, huh?” Daichi muttered, lowering his voice. “Probably the best thing for him. That guy is a fucking tosser who hasn’t stopped moaning since we got here. And ... you know the worst thing?”

Suga gurgled his relief, a huge weighty rock lifting from his shoulders and he couldn’t stop the curve of his lips and the thump-thump of his heart. “What’s the worst thing, Dai-sensei?”

“He hates my music. We had a two hour car journey and all he wanted to do was either talk about volleyball or listen to classical shit!” He paused, and when he spoke again, he added a wheedling plea to his voice. “I want to come home, Suga, don’t make me stay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11: AKA - Suga frets over nothing, silly boy.


	12. Epiphany Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a certain dinner party doesn't exactly go to plan ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Daichi is singing is By the Way by Red Hot Chilli Peppers. I was obsessed with this song around two years ago and it pulled me out of some dark days, so I decided to make Daichi a RHCP fan.

  
_"Standing in line_  
  _to see the show tonight_  
  _and there's a light on_  
  _Heavy Glow.”_

Daichi’s voice filled the car. He didn’t care that he was out of tune (Kuroo had told him frequently that his singing  had made his testicles shoot so far up inside his scrotum, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to breed) because this was his space, his time, and there was no one’s eardrums to assault except his own.

_“By the way, I tried to say_  
_I’d be there, waiting for..._  
_Dani the gir-”_

He grinned.

_“Suga the man is_  
_singing songs to me_  
_beneath the marquee_  
_Overload.”_

  
 The journey home was better than the journey there for the simple reason that Semi had decided not to travel back with him, getting an earlier lift instead with Futakuchi. So Daichi luxuriated in his own music and not having Semi drawling at him. He couldn’t deny the new Setter was good, and the training camp had gone a long way to helping him settle in the team, but all the same he couldn’t warm to him. He was as sarcastic as Futakuchi, but he didn’t have any fun about him, unless it was deep and Daichi was too dense to understand.

Still, what was important was how he played. Not quite in Akaashi’s league – he didn’t have that connection with an Ace, or an understanding of his teammates’ ebbs and flows – at least not yet - but he could pinpoint plays, and his eyes were sharp. Leaving the Eagles for the Crows was a career move, he’d told Daichi, because being second-string was hampering any chance he’d have of making the national team. It was the sort of decision professionals made all the time, so Daichi couldn’t fault him for that, but all the same, there was something cold in his aspect, sharp like a threat: if the Crows failed him, he’d walk – Daichi knew – but he also knew Semi would put his utmost into achieving his ambitions _with_ the team.

_“Steak knife_  
_Card shark.”_

_Damn._ He’d been on the road for nearly two hours, but now as he entered Tokyo, he hit the traffic. He slowed the car to standstill, and started to bat out the beat of the song on his steering wheel.

_“Con job_  
_Boot cut.”_

It was twenty past five. He’d hoped to be back by half past five, kick off his shoes and relax for a bit before getting ready for Oikawa’s dinner party and picking up Suga.  But at this rate, he’d be jumping straight into the shower and have to meet him there. Which was a problem because he didn’t know the address. Turning down the music, he scrabbled around for his phone.

“Hey.”

“Hi, there. Are you home?” Suga sounded flustered and Daichi’s heart did a little flip, imagining him blowing away the strands of his hair covering his eyes.

“Not yet. Sorry, I’m stuck in traffic, and not sure when I’ll get back.”

“You shouldn’t call me when driving,” Suga chided.

“I’m not driving, more like sitting,” he reassured him. “I need the address in case I’m really late and join you there.”

“Sure, I’ll text you,” he said breathily. Daichi heard the rustle of his clothes, and then he continued.  “Sorry, that was a customer. Tooru’s gone home early to prepare for tonight, Yachi’s not in today, so it’s me and Kageyama.”

“Ah, okay. I’d help, but ...kind of stuck here, and –”

“I’m making Baked Alaska cakes,” Suga said wryly. “One look at them and you’ll swell up like a balloon.”

“Ha! Okay, I’ll let you go. Oikawa does know I’m allergic, right?”

“Mmm, of course...” There was a silence, the sound of faint talking in the background. “Oh, yes, here’s a leaflet, and you can apply online,” Suga said to someone.

“Is this a bad time?”

“Um, not the best.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go and get back to my music.”

“Ahh, Semi-san not with you, then?”

“Nope.  I’m back to being a lone rock god,” he said and turned up the music.

_“By the way I tried to say  
I’d be there, waiting for.”_ He sang out the last refrain of the song, heard Suga’s yelp then a laugh.

“I’ll leave you to it, Dai,” he said, laughing. “Maybe stick to volleyball, huh?”

As he hung up, Daichi was left grinning at his phone. It had been so good to talk to Suga, even if briefly, without training camp weighing on him, and he couldn’t wait for their reunion.

_Bloody shame I have to be sociable first,_ he thought and yawned.

 

It was gone half past six when he parked up, so he dashed from the car and straight to the elevator, only to find that it was full, so instead he took the stairs, pounding up them two at a time, until he reached his front door. 

“Suga,” he yelled into his phone. “I’m back but need a shower. I can still pick you up, but it means we’ll both be late.”

“No problem. Shall I come over to you instead?”

“Yep. Good idea,” he said.

Then he disconnected, chucked his phone on the couch and headed straight for the shower, tearing off his clothes as he hustled in to the bathroom. The water seared into him, hot needles pounding his skin, altogether far too soothing, so he turned it to cold, letting the torrent spark him into life.

It was when he stepped out that he heard the doorbell. Too soon for Suga, he was tempted to ignore it, but the visitor was persistant, so with a yell of ‘in a minute’ he pulled on sweatpants and draped a towel over his shoulders.

“Hi!”

It was Suga, his finger poised over the doorbell.  Grinning from ear to ear, he tilted his head to one side. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure you’d heard me. I was actually out buying a bottle when you called, so I jumped in a cab. You don’t mind me being here, do you?”

“Nope.” He opened up his arms, gave Suga the benefit of what he hoped was his best smile (but was probably some kind of dopey grin) and hauled him inside. “Prepare for a reunion snog.”

Suga kicked the door to, and then he raised his hands and twined them around Daichi’s neck. “Just a snog?” he murmured, his thumbnails lightly scratching his skin.

He could feel himself hardening even before Suga pressed into him. His stomach swooped and there was a definite thud to his heart as Suga pressed his mouth to his and let his tongue explore.

“Mmm, I have missed this,” he whispered, pausing before dropping soft kisses down to Suga’s neck. “You smell good.”

“I’m not wearing any cologne.”

Daichi inhaled again, taking in the fresh fragrance of his skin, a hint of soap and baking bread the underlying scent of citrus, dappled sunlight and an almost chocolaty warmth. “Intoxicating,” he muttered and nuzzled his ear. “How late are we allowed to be?”

Suga nipped at his neck. “Tooru’s spent two hours cooking and an hour preparing, so ... no chance.”

“Spoilsport,” he muttered.

“Sachertorte,” he whispered, “takes a long time to bake, but is utterly delicious.”

“I’m allergic to eggs and ...” He smirked. “Anticipation.”

Eyelashes fluttering on Daichi’s cheek, Suga didn’t immediately move away. “I could make it up to you later,” he murmured. “Stay over, if you’d like.”

“Oh, yes, I would like.” Daichi kissed him again, long and hard on the mouth, sucking at his lower lip and pulling Suga back towards him, moulding his hands around his ass. “Very much.”

With utmost reluctance, he relinquished his hold, telling Suga to make himself at home while he got dressed. In his room, he studied his wardrobe, hesitating over what to wear. He couldn’t imagine Iwaizumi making a huge effort, but Oikawa, damn him, was not only a good looking guy but he looked effortless whatever he wore.

Taking his cue from Suga, who was wearing grey trousers and the same shirt he’d worn at Morito’s, Daichi dug out a smart (ish) pair of black trousers from his dress suit, and a purple shirt.  He was grimacing at a dubious looking stain on the knee and wondering if he could scratch it off when the doorbell rang.

“Suga, could you get that, please?” he called.

“Um... are you sure?”

“Yeah, ‘course. It’ll be my neighbour checking I’m back and returning the key. Be down in a minute.”

“’K.”

Deciding the stain was too ingrained, he chucked the trousers in his dirty washing basket, and frowned again.  He could hear voices, both male, so not his neighbour with the key.

“Be there in a minute,” he cried, and grabbed wildly at another pair. Grey, but much darker than Suga’s so they wouldn’t look like a matching pair (which he was sure Oikawa would point out). Purple shirt ... nope, it looked better with black, so ... white was boring. Red ... yep, red again. And a tie? No, that was too much.

“Dai-chan!”  someone yelled. “You decent?”

“Huh?” He finished hauling on the trousers, and buttoning up the shirt, stepped into his hallway. “Tendou? What are you doing here?”

“Was passing,” he said with a grin that sent his eyebrows into overdrive. “Thought I’d see how training went. Oh, and I got your copy of the contract, so ...”

“Uh, yeah, that could have waited ‘til Monday,” Daichi retorted. “Look, I don’t want to be unsocial, but Suga-san and I are-”

“On your way out, yeah, he told me. I’ll leave ya to it.” Tendou winked and clicked his tongue. “Bye Suga,” he yelled. “Have fun!”

“Bye,” Suga said, the word drifting from the sitting room.

Showing his agent the door, murmuring a polite but firm ‘no’ to the suggestion that they meet up for a ‘chat’ soon (because Tendou’s chats were always him hounding Daichi to take on another ‘amazing’ opportunity where he’d mention the Jaguars twelve times in one sentence) he wandered back to the lounge.

Suga had his back to him, looking at something out of the window and didn’t immediately turn when Daichi spoke.

“Will I do?” he repeated.

“Hmm?” He stayed immobile.

“Should I wear a tie?”

“Uh ...”  There was something about the set of his shoulders, kind of hunched forwards, but then Suga appeared to recover, taking a breath before spinning around. “Hajime will probably be in jogging bottoms or jeans, so I wouldn’t worry.” His mouth curved upwards appreciatively. “You look good.”

“Tucked in, or...” Daichi asked, showing the shirttail under the waistband.

“Tucked in, but ...” His smile became a whole lot wider, and a chuckle bubbled from his lips. “Come here. You’ve buttoned it up wrong.”

Suga’s hands were trembling as he approached, but once he touched him, touched the shirt, his fingers deftly unbuttoned it. There was a pause, and for a fraction of a moment, Daichi thought Suga was going to start something else, start something the very opposite of redressing him. Certainly, his fingertips began to glide over his chest. Yet the moment was fleeting, and very soon, he’d finished.

“Ready to go?” Daichi murmured. He tried to reach out to Suga, but he’d backed away, now crouching down to pick up the wine.

Slightly perturbed, he frowned, and then gently touched Suga on the arm. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm, fine,” he said. Straightening up, he pecked Daichi’s cheek. “Come on.”

But there was something off, something strange that hadn’t been there when he’d turned up. “Uh ... Suga, did Tendou upset you, or something?”

He shook his head and clasped Daichi’s hand. “We passed the time of day, that’s all. Come on, let’s go.”

As it was clear Suga wasn’t going to explain, and it seemed he was fine, caressing the mound of Daichi’s palm with his thumb as they left the apartment, Daichi decided not to press him. _Whatever’s bothering him doesn’t appear to have upset our plans for the evening,_ he thought and sighed. When it came down to it, he didn’t know Suga well enough to know if he’d rather talk it out, or work through the problem himself. So he squeezed Suga’s hand harder, dropped a kiss on his temple, feeling warm inside when Suga leant into him, and together they stepped into the lift.

***

Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s apartment was a short car journey away from Daichi’s. In an up and coming part of Tokyo, there were street vendors on the corners, bars packed with customers, and lively music throbbing in the air. It was vibrant and buzzing, and exactly the sort of place that Daichi liked to visit, but couldn’t contemplate living in.

“How long have they lived here?”

“About a year,” Suga replied. “Hajime swears it’s too noisy for him, but he’s not shown any signs of wanting to move elsewhere. Tooru likes all the shops.” He stopped talking as Daichi backed into a parking space.

“What shops?” Daichi asked once they were still, because looking out of the windows he couldn’t see much beyond the bars and restaurants.

“Oh, there are some foreign food shops here. Tooru buys his ingredients here. He really does enjoy cooking, you know,” Suga replied, sounding wistful.

“And you don’t?” Daichi said, surprised.

Suga blinked. “Oh ... oh, yes, I do, but it’s different. Oikawa creates what he calls ‘the whole food experience’. He loves different cuisines, enjoys the journey to making something the best it can be. I like baking, and I like having the shop, meeting people and making them happy, even if it is momentary. I know it’s not much, but-”

“It’s a lot,” Daichi assured him, and leaning over he squeezed his hand. “Making people happy is a ... a ... Well, it’s a gift. And you have it.”

Silence clung at them, and studying Suga, Daichi could see a very real effort he was making to keep himself composed. His mind switched back to the night of the party, and Suga’s drunken tears. Except this time, he was sober, and for some reason looked infinitely sadder.

“Suga,” he ventured. “What’s wr-”

“OY!” A shout and a bang on the window. “You staying there all night?”

“Just coming, Hajime,” Suga replied, and wriggling away from Daichi, he opened the car door. “What are you doing out here? I thought Tooru would have you chopping vegetables or laying the table.”

“Ha – nice one. He’s too much of a perfectionist to let me anywhere near the veg. Says my carrots aren’t uniform,” Iwaizumi replied, explaining to Daichi. “I was going out to get beer, is there anything you like drinking?”

“I’m driving,” Daichi replied as he got out the car. “I’ll have a glass of wine, then stick to water.”

“Yeah, I was gonna say it’s not a great idea to leave a car like this out over night.” He grinned in appreciation, his hand stroking the bonnet. “Great set of wheels.”

“My one indulgence,” Daichi said, as he locked up. He scooted around the front of the car, adding in an aside to Suga. “Well, it was, until I met you.”

That brought a smile to his face, and an almost hopeful gleam in his eyes.

“You’re looking sappy again, Daichi,” Iwaizumi muttered, then grinned. “Go on up. Tooru can’t wait to show off. Ah, Suga’s glaring at me for being mean. He is an excellent chef, so you’ll enjoy yourself.”

The apartment surprised Daichi, although he couldn’t quite figure out why.  It wasn’t that he’d spent a great deal of time imagining what their place would look like, but it very definitely wasn’t the space he found himself in. A studio flat, open plan and not at all homely, it was the last place he imagined Hajime feeling comfortable in. The stark white walls and black and chrome furniture looked cold to his inexpert eye, the only colour in the apartment being one wall decorated with photographs, and a small bookshelf, books organised tidily. (Daichi’s books were always out of place or upside down.) There was a lack of clutter as well. But just as he was starting to shiver a touch at the clinical aura of the flat, his senses were assailed by a warm and enticing smell. Spices and meat, watering his mouth.  He smiled at Oikawa’s welcome, accepted an orange juice to drink, before wandering over to the wall to study the photographs.

They were of a mixture of things. Some were of food – bright coloured and different shaped chillies for example – and others had varying locations in the background. But there was a common theme – that of Oikawa. If he didn’t physically feature in the photographs, then the picture was geared to his work – his interests – with not just the chillies, but photographs of tempting cakes, or honey dripping from a spoon.

The largest one, the photograph in the middle, caused his breath to hitch. Suga was there, his arm around Oikawa as they stood in front of Sugoi. Both smiling, Suga straight at the camera, but Oikawa’s gaze was far more focussed on Suga, his eyes fond, his hand on Suga’s shoulder.

And there were others too, Oikawa and Suga on a beach, paddling in the sea. Suga waving a crab in the air, Oikawa with seaweed draped over his hair, and a smile ... the sort of smile Daichi hadn’t seen before ... pure pleasure and delight in the company he kept.

Hearing footsteps padding behind him, he stretched out his hand to bring Suga closer, asking, “Where’s...” He stopped. The hand clutching his was larger, thinner, colder. “Wow, sorry, Oikawa-san. I thought you were Suga,” he said, immediately letting go.

Oikawa sniggered. “That’s perfectly okay, Sawamura-san.” He stepped closer. “You can call me Tooru if you’d like – or whatever nickname you’ve assigned me – Iwa-chan has several, if you can’t think of one - but Oikawa-san sounds so formal, especially as you’re here for fun.”

“Thank you. And, er, you too. Call me Daichi.”

“That’s far too normal. I prefer Sawa-chan,” he whispered, and licked his lips. “Now, you were asking something.”

“Uh ...” Daichi swallowed. “I wondered where Hajime was, and ... um ... also where this was taken?”

“The beach?  Oh, we went to Miyagi. That’s where Iwa-chan and I are from. That was before we were together.” He chuckled softly. “It was after Suga and I had broken up. Happy times, though.”

He willed his cheeks not to redden. “And Hajime?  Why isn’t he in any photographs?”

“Far too plain! Why would Oikawa-san want him on the wall?” he drawled, adding, “That’s what you’re thinking isn’t it? I can practically hear your brain ticking over.”

“N-no!” he stammered, although ... he had wondered. “Is he camera shy?”

“Yes, there are some days he refuses to go out without his mask, and that’s not just to keep the car fumes and germs away. It really is because he’s so ug-”

“Tooru, stop teasing.” Suga glided towards Daichi, standing on his other side, and slipped his arm around his waist. “Hajime took the pictures.”

“These pictures? Wow!” He looked away from the photographs of Oikawa and Suga, his eyes focusing again on the food. “All of them?”

“Mmm, it’s been a hobby of his for years, hasn’t it?”

“First camera at the age of ten,” Oikawa replied. “And, actually, there are several photographs of Hajime, but they’re ...” He smirked again, leaning closer to Daichi, “they’re not the sort you put on the wall, unless it’s a very private bedroom.”

There was no stopping the blush now, especially as Oikawa blew very faintly on his jaw line.

“Leave him alone, Tooru,” Suga murmured as he guided Daichi towards the sofa. “The other reason is that Tooru is rotten photographer, unless it’s a selfie, and Hajime always ends up on the edge of the photograph, or his head’s chopped off.”

“Because I like his body,” Oikawa whispered and gave Daichi a slow wink. Then he appeared to relent, took a seat on one of the black lounger chairs, and sipped his wine. “Koushi said you got back an hour ago, so it’s very good of you to come along.”

“No sweat, I’m looking forward to it. I’m sorry if my allergy has put you to any trouble.”

“Allergy?” Oikawa stared at him, utterly dumbstruck. “I hope it’s nothing serious. I will die if you don’t sample my soufflé. It’s such a tricky recipe and method –”

“SOUFFLE!” Daichi yelped. “That’s egg, isn’t it?”   _So much egg,_  he thought, remembering the warnings when he’d gone abroad to play. “Uh  ... oh ... I’m so sorry. I thought you knew, and you must have gone to such trouble. But ...” Thoroughly flustered, he turned to Suga, pleading with him to intervene, but Suga was hiding behind his hands, his shoulders shaking. “You’re taking the piss.”

“Small tease, that’s all. I can’t resist,” Oikawa replied. “Koushi’s warned me several times a day this past week. I’ve never known him to be quite so boring on the subject of food. I’ve been ploughing through recipe books and online sites for hours. Anyway, this apartment is an egg-free zone tonight.”

“I appreciate it,” Daichi mumbled. “Sorry to have put you to so much trouble.”

“Actually,” Oikawa grinned at him. “It was fun - like a mini-project, Sawa-chan, and I’ve always _adored_ a challenge.”

They chatted for a while. Oikawa was a good host, Daichi would give him that, and although a few quips were never far from his lips, they were good-natured rather than cutting. Beside him, Suga sank into the sofa, contributing a few words himself, as Oikawa geared the conversation around Daichi, and when Iwaizumi returned , hollering out a loud ‘hello’, whatever clouds had been in Suga’s mind had all but dissipated.

“Sawa-chan was admiring your photos,” Oikawa called.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Iwaizumi muttered. “But thanks.”

“I mean it. They look good to me. Is this what you like doing?” he asked, remembering clearly the conversation they’d had about work and passions.

“Taking pictures of food, or stroppy models like Oikawa?” Iwaizumi sniggered as Oikawa scowled at him. “Nah, it’s okay. The food’s not my thing, but pretty-boy here wanted a certain ‘aesthetic’-” He rolled his eyes at the word.  “- for the apartment. I’m happy enough.”

“Better than those sweaty athletes you like to snap,” Oikawa jibed. “No offence, Sawa-chan, but one of the reasons I never liked volleyball was Iwa-chan’s insistence on getting seats close to the pitch. And we’d have to arrive early and leave late to get whatever shots he wanted.”

“It’s court not pitch,” Iwaizumi muttered, cutting across Oikawa’s comments. He stared at his hands, suddenly finding them interesting. “And you really didn’t _hav_ e to come with me. You won’t have to in the future, either. I’ll go alone.”

“Well, if you don’t mind going to see the Crows, you can go with Suga,” Daichi said. “I have comps, and my parents rarely come and watch, so ...”

“Really?”

“Sure, be good to know someone wants to use them. The only other person who uses them is this kid I know called Hinata, but he doesn’t get many match days off.”

“Kou-chan doesn’t get that many days off either,” Oikawa butted in. He paused, flicking off some invisible dust from his trousers as he re-crossed his legs. “We _are_ running a business.”

“Oh...” He hadn’t thought of that, and turned to look at Suga. “Sorry, it hadn’t occurred to me, but ... um ... midweek matches are a possibility. That’s if you want to watch. You don’t have to.”

Suga was staring at him oddly, his mouth a touch agape and his hands pressed flat on his thighs. “Yes, I do want to. I said I did. I didn’t ... um ... Sorry ...” He shook his head, flustered it seemed by something, and it was as if he was having trouble processing two trains of thought in his head.  “We’ll work something out, Tooru, but I would like to watch the games, while I ... uh...”

There was still something funny going on, something a little strained in his tone, or maybe he was confused because he was certainly shooting Daichi puzzled looks, and looking as if he needed to speak, but taking small, quick sips of wine instead.

“That’s settled then!” Iwaizumi exclaimed, obviously oblivious to the undercurrent in the room. “Suga and I will go and watch. Tooru can stay in the shop and ... work on his interpersonal skills with Kageyama.” He beamed as he dodged Oikawa’s neatly aimed kick. “Right, I’m having a beer. Are you sure you won’t join me, Daichi?”

He refused, saying he’d have a glass of something with his food, then noticing a faint black cloud descending on Oikawa’s face, he steered the conversation away from volleyball and Sugoi and onto something closer to home - Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s home to be precise. He asked about the neighbourhood, the shops, how long they’d lived there, letting his questions prompt softer words from Oikawa, and from Iwaizumi, too, when he returned.

Suga’s hand slipped into his, warm and smooth, curling around his fingers, and as Daichi tilted his face sideways, he saw a mouthed ‘thank you’ and then a small kiss blown from his lips.

“Are they always like this?” he murmured to Suga, when Oikawa had summoned Iwaizumi to the kitchen to help him. “Bickering, I mean?”

“Pretty much, but they don’t mean it,” Suga replied. “They’ve known each other so long that it’s like a form of communication.” He sighed. “It would get to me after a while, but they’re happy enough ... usually.”

“Until it spills into a big fight, right?” Daichi ventured. “Like when Oikawa ... sorry Tooru ... spent time at your place.”

“Mmm.” Suga’s mouth pursed and he looked unwilling to say anything, but then he relaxed and wriggled closer, until their thighs touched and his head rested on Daichi’s shoulder. “You don’t mind spending time with my crazy friends, do you?”

“I’ve spent nearly a week away with squabbling squad members, newbies desperate to make an impression, a Setter halfway up his own asshole, and not forgetting Futakuchi ... This pair are the very opposite of crazy.” He stretched out, relinquished Suga’s hand for a second, then wound his arm around his waist, shuffling him close. “It was good, but I am so pleased to be home, you know?” He paused then turned his face, pressing his lips to the side of Suga’s temple. “Missed you, very much.”

“Missed you, too,” Suga whispered.

Behind them, Oikawa was chattering out orders. (‘Pass that. Find me a spoon, please, Iwa-chan. Check the seasoning, will you? Too spicy?’)

Engaged as they were, Daichi tipped his head down, nuzzling Suga’s temple. He waited, pausing his breath, and then Suga lifted his head up and his lips slowly parted.

“Oven’s beeping.”

Daichi kissed him slowly, letting his upper lip press against Suga’s soft mouth.

“Few appetisers. Get them out for me, will you?”

He tasted of wine, a sharp fruity tang, fresh and crisp. Daichi slid his tongue into Suga’s mouth, now sucking gently.

“Oven gloves?”

“On the table... I think.”

Suga lifted his hands to cup Daichi’s face, his fingers lacing into this thick thatch of hair.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll use a tea towel.”

“Okay... Use the pot stand to put the baking tray on, Iwa-chan. Don’t want to burn the – NO!”

They jerked apart. Daichi snorting, Suga peering over his shoulder, an expression of surprise in his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Use the gloves!” Oikawa was insistent.

“I’ll get a towel,” Iwaizumi replied.

“NO!”

“Assikawa, quit it! You disturbed the lovebirds. ” He laughed as he pulled open a drawer. “New relationships, huh, when you can’t keep your hands off each-  Uh ...”  Iwaizumi trailed off. “What’s this?”

Because he had turned his head that way, Daichi caught the full force of Oikawa’s expression. Shock and guilt, and then something that looked like anger, the anger of being caught out. He stretched out his hand to snatch something from Iwaizumi; something that Daichi could see was a letter.

“It’s mine!” Oikawa declared. “Nothing to do with you.”

“Letter from abroad,” Iwaizumi stated, his tone dead. “France, by the look of it.”

“France?” Suga peered over the sofa.

“Give me that letter,” Oikawa said. “It’s private.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Iwaizumi muttered. “Thing is, I know who’s there, don’t I? And I know why he’s writing.”

“What’s going on?” Daichi whispered. “Should we leave?”

Suga said nothing but shook his head. Placing his hand on Daichi’s shoulder, he pushed himself up and onto his feet.

“Takeda’s there, isn’t he?” he said.

_Who’s that? An ex, or something?_ Fiddling with his cuffs, Daichi stared at the floor, desperate not to catch anyone’s eyes – the disinclination to listen to dirty laundry aired in public strong within him.

“Yes, he might be. All right, he is,” Oikawa replied, trying to sound offhand, but even though Daichi wasn’t looking at him, he could tell he was rattled. “Hajime, give me back my letter.”

“How is he?” Suga asked, his fingers still pressing into Daichi’s shoulder.

“He’s fine,” Oikawa said dismissively. “My letter, please!”

“This is ... what ... the third letter he’s sent?” Iwaizumi queried.

And Daichi closed his eyes, cringing because he did not want to listen to this. He didn’t want to know about exes or affairs, or whatever this was. His insides began to curl, especially when Suga stepped away.

“Should we go?” he whispered, but Suga wasn’t listening.

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d been in touch?” Suga asked.

_Oh ... OH! Fuck, is this Suga’s ex?_

“Suga,” he said more clearly. “Is everything all right? Should I leave?”

“Uh ...” Suga switched his focus, and his expression from confusion to a understanding. “Takeda’s our old sensei, Daichi. He taught us at college. Very nice man. He visited me in hospital several times after the accident. I was ... um ... unconscious for a bit,” he said, and faltered before a sudden blink brought him back to the topic of conversation. “And ... um he had this idea to bring food into the hospital because he thought I might respond better to smells and taste rather than people’s voices,” he explained. “He was right.”

If Suga had wanted to lighten the atmosphere, then it hadn’t worked, not even when he shone his smile at the warring pair in the kitchen. And as Daichi at last looked at them both, catching the fury in their expressions, he again felt like an outsider at some very intimate party. A party for three.

“Tooru,” Suga persisted. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d written?”

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Oikawa replied, and with a sudden lunge, he snatched the letter back from Iwaizumi. “Go and sit back down. You, too, Iwa-chan. I’ll deal with-”

“No!” The word was quiet, low, but final, Hajime backing up his defiance with an intense stare before he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m sick of this. Tell Suga why he’s writing to you.”

“Iwa-chan, it’s -”

“Tell him!”

“It’s not the time.”

“No, it’s never the time. It wasn’t the time last year - that I understood. Or two months ago, it was apparently not the time. And now, nope, Never the right time. Why not, Tooru?  Why the fuck not?”

“Tooru...” Suga hesitated, blinking at Oikawa before turning to Iwaizumi. “Hajime, what’s going on?”

“Tell him.”

“No. It’s no one’s business but mine,” Oikawa snapped folding the letter into a narrow spill, he held it over the flame of the cooker.

“OIKAWA!” Iwaizumi grabbed the letter from his hands, dropping it onto the floor and stamping on it, until the fire died, leaving behind a sheet of writing paper charred at the edges.

“Right! Iwaizumi said with steel. “If you’re not telling him, I fucking am.”

“You have no right. It’s my personal correspondence!” Oikawa yelled. “DON’T DO THIS!  I WON’T FORGIVE YOU!”

“WHAT YOU GOING TO DO? WALK OUT ON ME AGAIN. IN CASE YOU HADN’T REMEMBERED, THERE’S NO LONGER SPACE AT SUGA’S!”

“Guys, guys, can we-” Daichi began, then shut his mouth as all three of them glared at him. “Oh ... kay. I’ll ... er ... sit here and –”

“Tell me, Tooru,” Suga whispered, and stepped closer. “Come on, this is me you’re talking to. Don’t we tell each other everything?”

It was probably his smile that did it, that or the touch on his arm. For the next moment, Oikawa leant back, gripping tight onto the counter and took a deep breath. “Takeda-sensei’s in Paris, Koushi.”

“Yes, I know that. Well, I knew it was France, wasn’t sure where.”

“He has a restaurant,” Oikawa murmured. “It’s small, but he’s making a name for himself.”

“Um ... good, he deserves success.  So ... why couldn’t you tell me this?”

Oikawa’s knuckles whitened. He glanced sideways at Iwaizumi, who shrugged, then stared directly into Suga’s eyes. “He’s offered me a job, Kou-chan. Obviously, I’ve said no.”

“But he’s persistant,” Iwaizumi put in. “This is the third _letter_ , right? And god knows how many emails you’ve kept from me.”

“Fourth, actually,” Oikawa admitted. “It makes no difference. I’m not accepting it.”

To Daichi it seemed the tension in the room, instead of evaporating, intensified. Suga locked looks with Oikawa, saying nothing but his hand clenched into a fist.

“Why not?” he asked at last.

“How can I?”

“But ... but, this is your dream job, Tooru. This is what you wanted,” Suga protested. He gulped. “It’s Paris, for goodness sake.”

“Sugoi takes priority,” Oikawa replied. He sniffed then straightened up. “Iwa-chan, will you take the appetizers out of the oven now? Sawa-chan looks very hungry.”

“That’s it, is it?” Iwaizumi muttered.”Discussion over.”

“Don’t,” Oikawa warned.

“Four letters. Four fucking letters he’s sent you. That’s how much this guy thinks of you, Oikawa, and you’re dismissing it out of hand.”

“Daichi-san, will you take a seat?  And may I get you a glass of some-”

“DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!” Iwaizumi howled.

“We have guests, Iwa-chan,” he trilled in reply. “And my decision is final.”

“No, I’m not having that!” Iwaizumi retorted. He shoved the letter towards Suga, waving it under his nose. “What’s the post date?”

“Two weeks ago,” Suga murmured.

“Yeah, so why, if you’re so adamant this is a shit offer, have you kept hold of the letter?”

“Must have forgotten it was there,” Oikawa breezed. “Right, if you’re not getting them out of the oven, then I guess I’ll have to before they burn.”

“That letter was not in that drawer yesterday,” Iwaizumi said. “I know that because I was folding up and putting away all your sodding tea towels. You...” He stopped speaking, swallowing hard. “You’ve kept hold of it, must have been rereading it before I got home, then shoved it in the drawer when I came back.”

“You must have missed it. I forgot it was there.”

“Yeah, right,” Iwaizumi spat. He closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths, and when he looked again at Oikawa, it seemed to Daichi as if a more desperate air had settled around him. “You want this job, Tooru. You _need_ this chance.”

“I need nothing,” Oikawa retorted. “We-” he gestured to Suga, “have a business to run.”

“But it’s not what you want!” Iwaizumi insisted, his voice now at fever pitch. “ _Please,_ think about this.  Suga, talk to him. Tell him it’s not impossible. You know him. You know what this chance could do for him.”

“I ...” Suga faltered. He glanced at Daichi, then back to the pair in front of him and again he reached for Oikawa. “Do you want to go to Paris?”

“That’s not important. I can’t go, can I?”

“Y-you could,” Suga murmured. “I _can_ run things, Tooru. Kageyama’s really coming along, and Yacchan’s always after more shifts.”

“Kageyama- that idiot!  No chance.”

“He’s a good kid,” Suga snapped. “And talented. If mentored properly, then-”

“No.” Oikawa was adamant. He flicked his attention to Daichi. “What must you think of us? Arguing like this. And over such a trivial reason. Come and sit at the table, Sawa-chan?”

Daichi got to his feet, and sticking his hands in his pockets, he wandered across to the table. But he didn’t sit. Instead, he placed his arm lightly across Suga’s shoulders, and gazed at Oikawa. “What I think is that you’re all close, and you have two people that care about you.” He paused, waiting for someone to speak, but when they remained silent, he coughed. “I ... don’t honestly know what’s going on here, but I believe in grabbing your chances, Oik... Tooru.  From Suga’s reaction, I can tell this is an amazing opportunity, so ...”

“I can’t go,” Oikawa said woodenly.

“Why not?” Daichi asked, when neither of the others replied. “Suga seems to think you can. The problems your absence at the cafe would cause aren’t insurmountable, are they?”

“You could go,” Suga urged. “We _can_ work this out.”

“No.” And now Oikawa was pleading, his face desperate. “Kou-chan, I can’t leave the cafe. How can I  leave _you_?”

Suga flinched as Daichi’s fingers bit into his shoulder. He turned to him, blinking fast. “It’s not what you think,” he whispered. “It’s not me. Not in that way. Please.”

Oikawa shook his head from side to side as if trying to dislodge water in his ears.  He held up his hands. “Oh, don’t worry that’s not what I meant at all. I have Iwa-chan.”

“Then ...” Daichi grimaced as he tried to make sense of the strange scene playing out in front of him. “Sorry, I don’t understand anything. Either you two are still involved, and that’s why you won’t leave him, or you’re hoping to get back with each other, in which case - ”

“Daichi,” rasped Iwaizumi. “It really isn’t like that.”

“It’s complicated,” Suga murmured. “Um, maybe we should eat now. We can talk about this another time.”

“No, look, I’m not dropping this,” Daichi continued. “Suga’s said the cafe’s fine. Hajime clearly thinks it’s a good idea to go to Paris. But you ... I don’t know. You feel you can’t leave. And it’s because of Suga. So what am I supposed to think?”

“Please, Daichi, leave it,” Suga urged, touching his arm. “Perhaps we’ll go. That might be for the best.”

Shrugging him off, Daichi raised his arms, palms facing Oikawa and turned swiftly on his heel. “Fine, I get it. I’m the outsider, and the three of you have some kind of intricate relationship that I can’t be a part of. How can I be when I’ve only known you for two months? I get it. I’ll go. Leave the three of you to talk it through.” The exhaustion in his bones feeding his irritation and anger, he laughed bitterly.  “Text me when you’ve worked out what you want, Suga. Okay?”

“Daichi!” Suga tried to grab him, but he eluded his hand, striding across to the door and his shoes.

Oikawa got there first. Oikawa pulled on his arm, twisting him around, demanding he look at him.

“Do you believe in paying your debts, Sawamura-san?” he asked.

“Yeah...” he replied, not at all sure where this was going because surely a heartbreak at eighteen wasn’t something Oikawa had to make up for eternally.

“Then you’ll understand when I tell you something,” Oikawa muttered. He took a step back and a breath. “I have a very large debt to Koushi.”

“What do you mean?”

“The accident,” Oikawa replied, clear as he stared into Daichi’s eyes, ignoring Suga’s faint gasp. “The one where he hurt his back.”

“What about it?”

“I was the driver,” Oikawa’s voice, eerily calm, hitched. “Koushi talks lightly about the crash, saying it was nothing, but it’s my fault he nearly died. Now tell me that debt’s easily repaid.”

 

* * *

 

I forgot to mention it, but as so many of you love Shrimpy, I thought you should read [this story](http://crollalanzaa.tumblr.com/post/136733720186/fishcakes-or-a-shrimp-a-lucifer-dogfish-and-a) written by the amazing Megan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!


	13. Devil's Food Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the truth comes out - not just about the accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Megan (who wrote the Shrimpy backstory) -I think you're going to like something about this. (Not a Mark Evans moment at all.)

To Suga it was as if he were the outside listening in. Tooru’s words, his toneless declaration, his reason for throwing away the very chance he’d always wanted (a chance, that from the sound of it had been repeated several times) seemed incomprehensible to him.

But at the same time it rang true. This was why he’d stuck with Sugoi.

Guilt had kept him there. And though, he didn’t doubt Tooru’s initial enthusiasm, it had gone to be replaced only with a need to make the enterprise successful – even if it wasn’t his dream.

“Your fault?” Daichi was saying. “Then why aren’t you ... uh ... ”

“In jail, is that what you want to say, Sawamura?”

“Because it _wasn’t_ his fault,” Suga interrupted. “Another car slammed into us. The driver was drunk.”

“That’s irrelevant. I was driving. I should have got us out of trouble,” Tooru continued. He didn’t look at Suga, instead his eyes flickered between Hajime and Daichi. “I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“Because your passenger was distracting you,” Suga replied dryly.  He touched Daichi on the arm. “We were arguing. Well, bickering, really, over something very stupid.”

Tooru blinked, and slumped against the door. “You remember? I thought you couldn’t recall anything about the accident. It was a blur, you said.”

“It was at first,” Suga murmured.  “I can’t remember the actual crash, and a lot of things after are hazy. Certain sounds and smells and you talking to me, I remember that. And a fireman who had to cut me out. I can sometimes smell the diesel, although, maybe that’s me mixing up memories. I’m not sure. But ... um ... yes, I remember what happened just before.”

“And you’ve never said?”

“Because I didn’t think you needed reminding and I didn’t know this still mattered to you. I had no idea.” Beside him, Daichi held his hand, he grasped it tight, taking strength from its warmth. “Um, would you mind leaving with Hajime for a while? I want to talk to Tooru.”

“If that’s what you want,” Daichi said, angling his mouth towards him. “If you’d rather I went home, though...”

“No. Don’t leave.  Please.”

“There’s a bar over the road,” Hajime said. “We can sit there and watch the game.”

“What match?” Daichi asked.

“No idea, but there’s always something on.” Placing his hand on Daichi’s back, he guided him towards the door, but as they left, he turned to Suga. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have landed this on you.”

“You should have told me earlier,” Suga replied, failing to keep not only the worry but the exasperation out of his voice.

They left, Hajime looking rueful, Daichi more concerned than anything.  And once he was sure they’d gone, Suga took one very deep breath and stretched out his hand to Tooru.

“Come on, tell me about this job in Paris.”

“I’m not going, Koushi. I won’t leave you alone. Sugoi is ours, and I won’t leave you stranded with it.”

Sighing, Suga led him back to the sofa. Tooru sat obediently, too obediently for Suga’s liking, and in his eyes, he could see the haunting memories of two years before.

“I am fine now,” he said with deliberation. “My back is ... Okay, it’s not perfect, but I manage very well.”

“For how long? This isn’t as if I’d be a few streets away. I can’t hop on a plane to help out if you’re laid up in bed.”

“We have Kageyama,” Suga replied, and refused to quail under Tooru’s glare. “He’s very good. And I think he’s loyal.”

“He’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to engage with the customers at all.”

“He’s learning, and I’m around.” Ruffling Tooru’s hair, Suga remembered the times they’d sat curled up together discussing their dreams. Suga’s had always been a cafe, or a chain if he was feeling particularly ambitious, a place where he could sell cakes and create happiness. With Sugoi he was achieving his dream, but it wasn’t Tooru’s. And he’d known that for a while, before they’d even opened, but it had been good to believe he wasn’t alone.

“Sometimes I think the cafe came too easily,” he continued. “I’ve not had to work hard enough.”

“We work _very_ hard,” countered Tooru. “It’s hardly a nine-to-five job, is it? The very early mornings, which hardly suit you, Koushi, you were always a night owl. And now with the evening classes. We’re earning the right to our cafe, Suga, in sweat.”

“But we didn’t work to set it up, did we?  We didn’t work for the money. That part came far too easily,” Suga said, at last finding the words to explain to Tooru the vague feeling of disquiet that had been growing in him recently.

“I wouldn’t call nearly dying in car crash is easy. That was your compensation money.”

“And you had your inheritance when your grandfather died, but ... maybe that should have been used to secure the future you wanted, Tooru, and not to help me.”

“Are you saying I was wrong?” Tooru shifted away, planting his feet squarely on the floor.

“Yes, I think I am,” Suga replied, a hitch in his throat. He grabbed Tooru’s arm, pulling him back to the sofa, back towards him. “I’m not saying I’m not grateful. I love the cafe, and I’m very happy, but ... I know you’re not and ...” He bit back the words, not wanting to say them because if he spoke them it was admitting the truth.

 “I’ve kept you here. I’ve tethered you to Tokyo, to Japan because I wouldn’t listen to you in that car, would I?”

The guarded look was back in Tooru’s eyes, and he flinched, but Suga wouldn’t let him turn from him.

“That argument, it was over Itori, I remember that. My boyfriend. And you were trying to warn me, because you said Itori was cheating on me. But I wouldn’t listen, would I?”

“You were in love; of course you weren’t going to listen.”

Suga sighed, recalling the rather stocky man, a year younger than him, that he’d mentored.  He’d very deliberately ‘wooed’ Suga, pressuring for dates, and writing extraordinary confession letters on lilac paper. And he’d been flattered, but he’d known there was something fake about it all, even in the beginning. “No, I wasn’t.  And I knew, even in that car, you were trying to spare me. Itori wasn’t chasing new students, was he? He was after you. _Everyone_ wanted you, Tooru. Best student by far, and so handsome. I was his way in.”

“You knew all that.”

“Mmm.” He huffed at the memories. Itori had visited him once in hospital, and never in rehab, dropping all pretence when he saw Tooru with Hajime.  It didn’t hurt now, and even then it had been his own stupidity that had stabbed at him and not Itori’s glaring disinterest.

“Tell you the truth, Tooru, I was jealous and didn’t want to believe it. So, if I hadn’t been an idiot and not finished things as soon as I realised, we wouldn’t have had that argument.

“Mind you,” he continued, and tried a smile, “if I hadn’t been seeing Itori, _if_ we hadn’t argued, _if_ it hadn’t been dark, and _if_ the other driver hadn’t had a skinful, then we would have continued on our journey and –”

“You wouldn’t have nearly died,” Tooru interjected.

“You wouldn’t be with Hajime and I ...” he breathed again, taking his time, “I wouldn’t have met Daichi.”

“So many ifs,” Tooru murmured, and settled back, nestling his head against the sofa cushion. He reached for Suga’s hand, but didn’t seem surprised or make any objection when Suga leant in close and rested his head on his chest. Instead he ran his fingers through Suga’s hair. “You’re happy, aren’t you, Koushi? With Sawa-chan, I mean.”

“Yes ... I am,” he replied, pleased Tooru couldn’t see his face. Because it wasn’t that he was unhappy, just that everything was changing around him so fast he could barely make sense of any of it. He swallowed. _Tooru’s job,_ he thought. _I must focus._

“Tell me about Paris,” Suga said. “When does Take-chan want you to start?”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“But you haven’t said no, at least not in a way that’s stopped him asking.”

“Our senpai wouldn’t be put off even if I ran over him with a steamroller,” Tooru replied, laughing.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t flown over to beg,” Suga said, joining in the laughter. “But seriously, Tooru, he must want you there pretty badly. And ... I can manage.”

“With only Tobio-chan,” Tooru objected. “Yacchan won’t be with us forever. And you need someone permanent.”

“I’ll find someone, Tooru. So ...” He paused for breath. “If the only reason you’re hesitating is because of me, then you can stop worrying.”

Getting to his feet, Tooru wandered over to the wall of photographs, running his fingers across the glass frames, resting on one small frame, usually missed, of Hajime on the beach at Miyagi, not posing, but crouched over a rock pool, poking at something with a stick. 

“Our first trip back as a couple. We’d decided to break it to our families,” Tooru mused. “Hajime’s parents still won’t acknowledge me.”

Comprehension dawned, an understanding that really should have hit him before. “You’ve not only been arguing because of the cafe, have you?”

“He says he’ll follow me,” Tooru said softly, his fingers still tracing the photograph. “That once he has a visa and a work permit, he’ll give up everything in Tokyo and fly to Paris.”

Getting to his feet, Suga stepped towards Tooru, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Don’t push him away.”

“I don’t want him to hate me.”

“Hajime? Hate _you?_ Impossible!” he scoffed.”Tooru, you’ve been friends for over thirteen years, that won’t happen.”

“He’s stubborn. He’ll give everything up to prove a point, come out and be thoroughly miserable doing a job he hates.”

Suga heaved in a breath. “He hates his job now, Tooru, but he thinks other things are more important.”

“Like what?”

Resisting the urge to punch him, Suga snorted instead. “Like you, you ridiculous ... cupcake.”

“Cupcake.” Tooru started to giggle, his shoulders jiggling up and down, and he twisted around, holding Suga in his arms but away from him. He licked his upper lip. “What sort? Red velvet?”

“Devil’s Food cake,” Suga retorted, and gave him a grin. “Talking of food, shall we tell them they can come back? Daichi will be starving by now.”

“Must feed him,” Tooru agreed and breaking away, he sauntered across the floor and to the kitchen. “I have to say, he’s not my type in the slightest, Koushi, but I am pleased he’s around. Makes me feel a lot easier about leaving.”

Suga continued to smile even when Tooru’s back was turned. Years of experience had taught him it was easier to keep up a brave face if he never let it drop.

 

The bar was crowded, eclectic in its clientele and not the sort of sports bar Daichi was used to.  Hajime was treated like an old friend, and he got them served almost as soon as they arrived – a bottle of beer for him, and tonic water for Daichi.

They sat in one corner, and true enough, there was a television showing a game. It was basketball, not Daichi’s favourite sport, but it gave the pair of them something to focus on rather than facing the elephant in the room.

“I told him I’d go with him, you know,” Hajime said at last. “Said I’d be willing to up sticks and live in France if that was what he wanted. ‘Course, Oikawa’s having none of it. Thinks he’s indispensible to Suga.” He picked up the tonic, tipping it to Daichi’s glass.  “We’ve  been friends since we were kids. We went through school together, and even though we were pretty different, we stayed close.”

“ _Nothing_ in common?” Daichi queried.

“I was a jock. Volleyball, actually,” he said, self-deprecatingly. “Oikawa was good at sports, right build and everything, but ... well ... he liked cooking.  And that wasn’t the type of subject you took at our school if you were a boy. If you get my drift.”

“Mmm. So _why_ are you together? Uh ... I mean, how ...” He grimaced an apology.

From over the top of his bottle, Iwaizumi glared at him. “Look, I know he comes over as a prick. And I kind of get that he might annoy you because he comes on strong, but ...”He gave a type of sigh, exasperated, fond, but with awe, too.  “Tooru was _out_ at school. He put up with _so_ much shit. Bloody brave, but he would laugh it off. I used to beat the bullies up, then date a lot of girls to compensate.” He winced. “Kind of not proud of that, but ... uh ... sixteen year olds are idiots, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Daichi swallowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply there was anything wrong with you being together. Uh ...” He flailed for another source of conversation, unwilling to let go of the subject entirely. “Suga says you got together after he’d had the accident.”

“Uh-huh. I got a call, Tooru was wrecked, and I drove through the night. I like Suga, so it wasn’t a hardship, and then I saw Tooru. He was a mess, hadn’t slept at all.  The hospital wouldn’t let him see Suga because he wasn’t family. ” A brief grin lit his lips. “There was some tosser making a nuisance of himself, I remember. I walked into the waiting room, saw this guy put his arm across his shoulders, saw Tooru shove him away, and that’s when I knew ...”

“That you were attracted to him. That you were gay.”

“Yup,” Hajime replied matter-of-factly. “I guess I’d known a while, seeing him with Suga was the first clue, but I put that down to envy he had someone. Suga is so easy to like, and he’s a hard act to follow.”

“Do you think Oikawa will go?” Daichi asked, tentative.

Hajime chewed his lip, clearly thinking through what he’d say next as his eyes flickered over Daichi.  He took a long slow swig on his beer and then another before replying, “Tooru listens to Suga – he always has. Not gonna lie, I used to be jealous of that, but ... uh ... I’m hoping Suga has more luck than me.”

 

***

They arrived back within five minutes of Oikawa’s text to find the table laid, and both Oikawa and Suga in aprons.  Daichi looked at Suga, bent over a saucepan, his face pink with the heat, and found himself as pink when Suga gave him a quick wink, his tongue poking through his teeth as he concentrated.

“Okay, so as the hors d’oeuvre were a little bit overdone,” Oikawa began, shimmying towards them both, hands behind his back.

“Burnt, you mean,” Hajime interrupted with a smirk to Daichi. “Fancy ramen instead?”

 “The word we use in caramelised,” Suga said, with a scandalised whisper.

“Or fashionably charred,” Oikawa agreed.

“Blackened, that’s another.”

“Dark-browned.”

“No, bronzed is better.”

“Are they going to keep this up all night?” Daichi asked Hajime.

 “Probably. It’s called ‘Baking Humour’, I’ve never quite understood,” he replied, holding the back of his hand to his mouth. “We could talk volleyball if you want. How’s your new Setter?”

“Uh... good, settling in well,” he said and hoped his face looked neutral.

“As I was saying,” Oikawa declared. “The hors d’oeuvre are a tad too garnished with charcoal, so I’m going serve the scallops. But first ... ” He gave a small bow, then with a flourish of his wrist, produced a bottle behind his back. “Champagne, Koushi very kindly ran out to the shops for me.  It is chilled.”

Picking off the foil, and untwisting the metal wires holding the cork in place, Oikawa eased out the cork with a satisfactory pop, before pouring it into three champagne flutes.

Hajime took two glasses, handing them to Suga and Daichi, before taking the bottle and pouring the last glass, which he handed to Oikawa. “Tooru...” he said slowly, plucking up his own glass. “Does this mean we’re celebrating?”

Oikawa smiled, and to Daichi it looked genuine. He surveyed them all, finally resting on Hajime. “If you call getting rid of me for a while a celebration, then I guess it is,” he drawled.

“You’re going to France,” Hajime stated.

“Only if I can work things out with you, Hajime,” Oikawa replied, “and if Takeda-sensei will still have me.” As he beamed, he widened his audience, chuckling at Suga, and then inclining his head towards Daichi.

“I’m sorry, Sawa-chan, but as Koushi is going to be much busier without me,  I’m counting on you to be on hand for support.” His eyes glimmered with amusement. “From what I’ve heard you give excellent massages. He might need them. Or ... uh ...any other stress relief.”

Now crimson, Daichi stammered out something, what it was he couldn’t remember, but it didn’t seem to matter because Hajime was now toasting Oikawa, Paris and France each salutation louder than the one before, and ensuring everyone joined in.

It was only as they sat down, it occurred to Daichi that Suga’s smile was too bright, his voice a touch brittle and there was an unhappiness clouding his eyes, an unhappiness that could only be caused by Oikawa’s decision.

_I can’t compete with him._

_At all._

It cut him to his core, like a red hot blade slicing into him, but there was no anger, except with himself for starting to believe they could have a future. For as Suga had said, not even that long ago, falling in love with someone who was still in love with another was painful.

He ate the scallops, commented on how good they tasted, listened as Suga and Oikawa discussed flavourings, and how small tweaks could make all the difference, and even managed to keep up with a conversation Hajime was attempting to have with him about baseball. But inside Daichi ached. He couldn’t even blame Suga. He realised now that when he’d given his reassurances, he probably wasn’t even aware how much Oikawa still meant to him.

They moved onto the main course. Some kind of beef wrapped in the lightest of pastry with mushrooms and a Madeira sauce. The beef was so tender, it practically melted in Daichi’s mouth, and again he praised Oikawa, _again_ he listened in on the conversation he had with Suga (this time regarding shitake mushrooms) and _again_ he talked with Iwaizumi, this time about rugby (which neither understood very well).

It was dessert where Oikawa excelled. There was an apple flan, the apple slices arranged in a perfect circular fan spiralling from the centre, all gooey with caramel. But he’d also made three types of ice cream, flavouring them with cinnamon, lemon and lavender. (‘No egg used at all, Koushi-chan, so you can stop with the scowl!’)

To Daichi the meal was sublime, but it only underscored his inadequacy.

“Two pastry dishes, Tooru. Take-chan will mark you down for that,” Suga said, his giggle irrepressible as Oikawa pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Different pastry!” Oikawa declared. “Trust you to pick me up on that.  No one else would be quite so mean. Sawa-chan, you really must look out for Koushi’s whiplash tongue. He may look as sweet and soft as this apple tart, but at times it’s as if there’s no caramel at all.”

It was as Suga licked his lips, but completely missing the dab of ice cream on his nose, that Daichi’s breath hitched. He leant forward, and with his napkin gently blotted it away. And Suga smiled, turning his face towards him, so the soft lamplight haloed around his hair.

For Daichi, it was as if he’d taken a punch to the gut, reminded sharply of the moment he’d first seen Suga – the quicksilver hair in the sunlight, rendering him incapable of staying away.

That decided him. It was like a volleyball game, one in which he’d been subbed into, with no real knowledge of the previous plays, only the realisation that he was here to win.

Suga enjoyed being with him.

Maybe that was enough for now.

 

Daichi was stifling yawns at half-past ten, not out of boredom, but exhaustion from the past week, and – he realised – the drama of the evening. Giving him a side glance from beneath his lashes, Suga abruptly ended his conversation with Oikawa, and got to his feet.

“I think we’d better go,” he explained. “It’s been a lovely evening, so thank you very much.”

“The night is young!” Oikawa complained. “And you don’t need to get up early.”

“But some of us have been doing the early shift all week, Tooru. I can’t leave everything to Kageyama.”

“Point taken,” Oikawa replied, his eyes round and innocent. “Although I did offer, but I seem to remember you telling me you wanted to keep busy. Keep your mind off a certain person’s absence.”

“Stop stirring!” Iwaizumi snapped, but it was good-natured. He got up and ushered Daichi to the door. “Thanks for coming. _I_ can see you’re dead on your feet, even if this asshole thinks we should all be partying.”

“Yeah, sorry, I have had an exhausting week, but thank you very much for inviting me,” Daichi said, with genuine warmth at the pair of them. He slipped his hand into Suga’s gripping tight as he spoke.  “The food was amazing, Oikawa. Paris is going to be wowed by you.”

“Ah! You, Sawa-chan, have immediately gone to the top of my list for a complimentary meal!” Oikawa declared. “I’m not paying for your tickets to France, though.”

The streets were still crowded as they started the drive back, and although he was concentrating on the road ahead, out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Suga’s happiness lessening when he thought he wasn’t observed.

And Daichi didn’t know what to do now. Except that he was never one to shy away from a battle, and he couldn’t get through the rest of the evening with Suga staying over without talking about Oikawa.

“It will mean a lot of work for you, then, with Oikawa-san leaving,” he murmured, deciding the tentative approach worked best.

“Hmm?” Suga jerked his attention away from a couple dancing on the pavement. “Oh ... yes... it will, but in some ways that’s a good thing. I’ve ... uh ... been too reliant on Tooru and Hajime in the past, and... well ... being busy really does keep my mind off other things.”

“You’ll miss him.”

“Yes. Obviously. He is my best friend!”

“And?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re okay with him leaving?” Daichi asked slowing to a standstill as they reached a set of lights.

The couple passed them again, the girl being twirled around by her boyfriend, laughing loud, enjoying life.

“It’s the best thing for him. And for me,” Suga insisted, and Daichi couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince himself or if that was actually what he felt.

He took a deep, silent breath, stiffening his spine. “Do you mean that?” he asked, praying he sounded casual.

“Of course.” Suga made a sound, a mixture of a laugh and a sigh. “That meal he prepared ... We had Coquille St. Jacques, Boeuf en Croûte, and Tarte Tatin. Could not have been more French! He’s so bored at Sugoi. There are only so many times you can make the perfect mille-feuille, after all.”

“But ...” The lights were still red; he had time to talk. Outside the couple had started to kiss. “What about you, Suga?  How do you really feel about him leaving?  And, no, I don’t mean, how it will affect the cafe, but you?”

“Uh... like I said, he’s my best friend and I’ll miss him.” Suga replied, a little dazed.  He gave a sniff. “If you must know, I’m feeling layers of guilt over this.”

“Guilt?”

“Because ...”

A car tooted its horn.

“The lights have changed,” Suga murmured.

“Oh, right.” Daichi eased his foot onto the accelerator, waving apologetically at the cars behind. “Why guilty?” he asked again.

“A number of reasons. I’ve kept him here -”

“Not deliberately.”

“Hmm, I’m still a factor. He said he couldn’t leave because of the accident, and that is my fault.”

“Uh... what? How was a drunk driver crashing into you your fault?”

“No, I mean not talking about it,” Suga explained. He was furling and unfurling his hands on his legs, but his voice was steady enough. “If we’d talked it through, he’d have been able to move on. Instead of which he sunk his savings into Sugoi because he felt he had a debt.”

“Takes two to talk, Suga,” Daichi murmured. “He had to be willing to listen.”

“Yes, I know.” He closed his eyes, leaning right back into the seat. “But I knew he was miserable. The rows with Hajime for a start. I mean, they’ve always been tempestuous, but walking out on him, it was obvious something more serious was going on.”

“Still not your fault, Sug.”

Something happened then. Suga gave a tiny startled gasp and his eyes flew open.

“You okay?”

“Um... yes, just ... you called me ‘Sug’. I ... kinda like it.” But the smile faded too quickly.

“So...” Daichi prompted because for some reason, talking in the car was easier than sitting at home – possibly because there was no eye contact involved. “Why else do you feel guilty?”

“My constant state of being,” Suga laughed, a touch bitterly.

Daichi remained silent, focusing on the traffic, but he could see Suga gearing himself up to speak and his heart leapt erratically in his chest.

“Because,” he said at last, shakily and as if this was being dragged from him, “since I met a certain volleyball player, I have been so distracted that I’ve missed how unhappy Tooru’s been.”

“Me?”

“Of course you! How many other volleyball players do you think I’ve been seeing?”

“I don’t know.” Daichi laughed, the relief in him welling. “Maybe you’ve been seeing Futakuchi on the side?”

“Like I could do that,” Suga murmured, not laughing.

And then he twisted his head to the side, reached across and touched Daichi’s hand as it rested on the gearstick. “I’m going to need another distraction soon, aren’t I?”

“Distraction from what?” he asked, confused.

“I’m sorry,” Suga mumbled. “I’m usually quite calm and rational and ...” He sucked at his lip. “That’s a lie. I’m not very rational at all, and the thing is, I -” He stopped, but Daichi didn’t interrupt, sensing he had more to say. He linked their fingers instead, dropping one small kiss on his knuckle. “But at your apartment earlier, when I met your agent. Tendou?  Is that his name?”

“Uh ... yeah.” Daichi frowned. “What about him? I’m sorry, was he rude to you?”

“N-no, no, not at all. I... um ... I remembered the conversation I had at the party with him.” Suga gulped. “We were talking about you being Captain, and I said I’d heard you were the youngest Captain, and how it must be an honour and a show of confidence in you.”

Despite his trepidation, Daichi felt his chest swell with pride. “And he disagreed?” He laughed. “Tendou’s like that. I mean, he’ll big you up in the contract negotiations then it’s all forgotten until it’s time for the next pay rise.”

“N-no, it wasn’t like that at all. He ... uh ...”He huffed out his cheeks, clearly steeling himself. “He told me that you were looking at going to Brazil for a season,” he said gruffly.

“HE WHAT!”His hand jerked, twisting Suga’s fingers

“Ow!” Startled, Suga drew his hand away.

Appalled, Daichi swallowed, reached for Suga’s hand and kissed his fingers.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you. Go on, what else did he say?”

“At the party, nothing, but he mentioned it again tonight before we left, even telling me how the Captaincy is a big lever now, and it wouldn’t surprise him if other clubs made offers. He says it’s your big chance and nothing should hold you back. Sorry, is it supposed to be a secret? He ... uh ...”

His shoulders had hunched again.

“Suga, is that what’s been bothering you tonight? Is that why you’ve been so ... so ... sad?”

“Was I that obvious?” He sniffled, keeping his eyes focused on the car in front.

“You looked kinda brittle to me. I thought it was because of Oikawa leaving.”

Suga shook his head. “I’m going to miss him, very much, but it’s for the best. And, like you said, he has to grab his chance. We all do, don’t we?”

“Uh ... yeah-”

“So you moving to Brazil. It’s a great opportunity,” Suga continued dully. Then he shook his head. “I do mean it. Tendou-san said the best players are there, so obviously they’d want you. And it would be amazing to live in Brazil.” He actually licked his lips, adding in a falsely light tone. “They have fantastic food. They do this beautiful dessert called Quindim which tastes of coconut and ... uh ... actually it’s an egg custard, so maybe steer clear of that.”

“I will,” Daichi said gravely when he could get a word in edgeways. “In fact, I think I should steer clear of the entire continent, just in case.”

“Huh?”

Slowing to take a corner, he quirked an eyebrow. “I,” he whispered, “have no intention of going to Brazil. I never did.”

“B-but the contract he dropped off?”

“A copy of my Crows contract. Now that I’m Captain, Tendou was going through it to see if the Crows lawyer had missed a loophole he could exploit. He’s not happy I agreed to the terms so quickly.”

“Then your agent...”

“Is a dumbass, and a shit stirrer,” Daichi finished. “And he’d like to expand his empire by signing Brazilian players.”

“But isn’t it a good move?”

Daichi shrugged. “Money’s good, and I was flattered, but I’d be a reserve at very best, which won’t help my prospects with Japan.  They have a vaster squad than we do, and I’m ...” He turned into his street, waiting to enter his apartment block’s car park. “I’m very happy here in Tokyo, Suga. _Very._ ”

Suga’s cheeks were pink, his lip trembling so hard he bit it. “Even though your boyfriend gets the wrong end of the stick,” he said.

“Hmm, well, maybe he needs to talk to me, so I can put him right,” Daichi replied. He chuckled, then as they pulled into the car park, he leant across and stroked Suga’s cheek. “Do you still want to stay over?”

“Try and keep me away, but aren’t you exhausted?”

“All of a sudden, I’m wide awake,” Daichi said, grinning.

 

***

 

There were others waiting for the lift when they arrived, so they stood chastely apart at one side, Suga absentmindedly staring at the mirrored wall in front of them. But even though they weren’t touching, he could feel Daichi, feel his presence, and the heat of his gaze boring into him. Daichi had nestled into the corner, and his hand now casually, as if an accident, graced Suga’s back then smoothed lower. Glancing up, he observed Daichi’s calm expression, the stoic captain he’d seen on the screen, but still his palm was on Suga’s ass.

“How am I supposed to behave?” he murmured.

“Not much longer,” Daichi whispered, beginning to caress.

The lift stopped at floor two and an elderly couple arm-in-arm got out.

“You’re bad,” Suga whispered.

“Six more floors, that’s all,” he replied cheerfully, smiling at the other occupants of the lift.

Clearly thinking he was safe from view, Daichi moved his hand again, slipping his fingers up and down the seam of Suga’s trousers.

“Stop that.”

“You could move,” Daichi said under his breath.

“Yes ... yes, I could,” he agreed.

Taking the minutest of sidesteps, Suga planted himself solidly in front of Daichi.

“That’s not very far.”

Suga watched the lift lights, the arrows shooting upwards, and then, when the lift came to a halt at floor three, he jerked backwards, careening into Daichi.

“Oh, lost my footing!” he cried to the lift audience,  and with a small, secret grin, while he pretended to be steadying himself, he inched into Daichi.

He began to move, the action from an onlooker’s point of view, would be that he was tapping his foot and wiggling his hips a little to the appalling lift music. What they couldn’t see was his ass pressing into Daichi’s groin, brushing up and down against him.

“Stop that.”

“You started it,” Suga whispered, still jiggling. “You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Suga ... I’m ...”

Feeling something twitch inside Daichi’s trousers, Suga continued to move. “Getting excited,” he murmured. “Don’t worry, only five more floors to go.”

He could see Daichi’s face in the opposite mirror, the way he was biting hard on his lip, torn between horror, lust and amusement as Suga continued to wriggle in front of him.

Floor four and one more person left, wishing them all a cheery goodnight as he lumbered back to his apartment. There were three more people to go, and four more floors. Suga slowed his movements, letting his hand fall to his side as he made a show of brushing down his trousers, the action letting him move more freely.

Daichi was now hard against him, and his eyes were closed. He placed his hand on the small of Suga’s back, and for a moment, Suga thought he was going to nudge him away, but instead his fingers scrabbled downwards, tugging at his shirt to leave it gaping, his skin exposed.

At floor five, the three other occupants got out.

“You are a minx,” Daichi muttered as the lift closed.

“You started it, Dai-chan,” Suga replied, laughing as he stepped away. “Not long now, three more floors.

“Too fricking long!” And with a turn of speed, he slammed his hand on the lift buttons, jerking it to a stop.  He reached out, circled his fingers around Suga’s wrist and hauled him over. “So, now there’s no audience, what are you going to do?”

“Here?”

“Why not?”

“You’re crazy,” Suga cried, and then he tipped his head forwards into Daichi’s chest and gurgled his laughter. “I love it.”

“ _You_ are driving me crazy, Sug,” Daichi groaned. “All through training camp, especially at night, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us, and what ... what I would do if you were there.”

 He peeped up at him. “Like what?”

“This,” he whispered, and planted his lips on Suga’s neck. His fingers ran down Suga’s spine, nails pressing through the shirt, flaring out as they reached his ass. Then, with his other hand, he moulded his palm around Suga’s cock, and pressed against him. “And this.”

Looking down, he watched Daichi undo his belt buckle, flipping open his fly button before unzipping his trousers. He twisted around, pushing Suga gently against the lift wall and started to slide his hand over Suga’s stomach, his thumb pulling the elastic of his boxers.

“Daichi,” Suga gasped, because now he was undoing his own trousers, letting them drop past his knees.  “What are you....oh.”

He’d furled his hand around Suga’s cock, them his own, pressing them together as he stated to tug.

“Want me to stop?” Daichi rasped, his breath hot on Suga’s neck his mouth moist as he sucked.

“N-no ... I ... I ...” His knees began to tremble, so Suga lifted his hands to Daichi’s shoulders, winding around his neck.

Maybe sensing Suga’s imminent collapse, Daichi wound his free arm around him, cupped his ass in his hand, holding him up, while he worked them both.

It was mad. They could have been discovered at anytime because hell knew, Suga wouldn’t have been able to tell if the lift began to work again. Such were the sensations coursing through him as Daichi gripped and tugged, achingly slow up, before plunging down, that the whole apartment block, no, the whole street could have piled in and Suga would have been aware of none of them.

He fisted his hands into Daichi’s hair, pulling him down to his neck, imploring him to carry on, to not stop, to never stop. And he started to move, thrusting into Daichi’s hand, against his cock, their rhythms colliding and synchronising. Precum oozed out of him, the lubrication welcome, and he was at the tipping point, but not quite there, desperate to finish before anyone could discover them.

“Go on, Sug,” Daichi was entreating.

He’d hardly been aware he had his eyes closed, but they flew open at Daichi’s words, and looking up he saw him staring down at him, his dark eyes an even deeper brown. “Go on,” he urged,.

No longer aware of anything except Daichi’s body, his insistent voice and cock harder than rock, Suga whimpered. He dropped one hand, sliding it to Daichi’s ass, digging his fingernails into the firm muscled flesh.

Daichi began to groan, so Suga dug harder, enjoying –again - the feeling of control, for now it was Daichi with his eyes closed, Daichi thrusting upwards, Daichi imploring until with a strangled ‘fuck’ he came suddenly, splattering Saga’s shirt and his own.

“Crazy,” he panted. He loosened his grip, rested his forehead against Suga’s, briefly recapturing his breath, and then claimed his mouth in his.

The kiss was fast, a frenetic sucking at Suga’s lower lip, almost biting but not quite, before he pulled away. His hands spanned Suga’s waist, and then, with a lazy smile Daichi dropped to his knees.

“Come here,” he murmured.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.” His tongue licked Suga’s aching cock, swirling over the head and into the slit. “Lean back against that rail, and let me do my work.”

He enveloped him, taking his time, hollowing his cheeks as he slowly started to suck. The pressure was building inside Suga, he could feel the heat, feel his body’s trembling response, on instinct now, feral and needy, the keen in his throat whimpering to escape. And as Daichi’s hands slid around his ass, fingers slipping between his legs, thumbs caressing his balls, he thrust further into Daichi’s mouth.

He sucked harder, then trailed his lips up the shaft, letting his teeth nuzzle and almost nip at Suga’s cock.

Suga gripped the hand rail, tilted his head right back, and then with one last sudden thrust, he came.

His fingers loosed their hold, his body floundered, and he collapsed forward just as Daichi was getting to his feet, ruefully wiping his mouth on his shirt tail.

“That was madness.”

“Yeah, it was a bit,” Daichi replied, and chuckled.  He pulled up his trousers, fastening the belt securely and smirked. “Guess I shouldn’t touch you up in public.”

Giggling as he redressed, Suga swung in front of him. He clasped Daichi’s face in his hands, pulling him down for a kiss. “No, I think it means you must touch me up, every chance you get.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

Suga shook his head. “I’m happy, Daichi. Incredible after everything that’s happened tonight, and that’s down to you.”

He blinked, and gulped, and as Suga met his eyes, he saw what he thought were the glisten of tears in his eyes. Daichi’s hands slipped around him, drawing him as close as he could.

“The other thing I thought about at training camp,” he muttered, and buried his face in Suga’s neck, “is how much I love you.”

That stopped him. He knew he must look every kind of fool with his mouth agape, and blushing pinker than a momo petal, but Daichi’s confession had taken the wind out his sails.

“Oh fuck, too soon,” Daichi whispered, horrified. “Sorry, forget I said that. I ... uh ... dumb thing to-”

“Hush.” Suga pressed his finger to Daichi’s lips. His eyes were wet, tears leaking down his face, and he knew if he started speaking he’d either cry or crack. But that didn’t matter. Not now. Flinging his arms around him, moulding his body to Daichi’s, scarcely able to keep the shriek out of his voice, he cried, “It hit me harder than a sack of flour the day you left for training camp, but I love you, too, Daichi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end isn't just fanservice, but I hope you enjoyed it.


	14. Mille-Feuille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Suga takes a gamble, and Daichi springs a surprise on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a line in this that I dedicate to Noemi (the windraiser) because I wrote it and then realised I'd pinched it from Love Actually. I was going to change it, but ... well ... it's one of my favs.

Suga placed his hands on the shorter boy’s shoulders, took a breath, and forced a smile on his face. The next few moments could well set the pace for the future of Sugoi and although he was sure he was making a good decision, there was still a doubt niggling at the back of his mind.

Because theories were all well and good, but personalities could always be guaranteed to disrupt the mix.

He cleared his throat.

“Tooru, Kageyama-kun, could you come out here please?”

“We’re a little busy, Kou-chan! These iced buns won’t make themselves.”

“It’s important!” Suga insisted. Then leaning forwards, he whispered. “It will be all right. Smile, okay?”

“Fine,” Tooru called back.

A few moments later, the kitchen door swung open, Tooru strolled out with Kageyama following. They stopped almost as soon as they saw Suga’s companion.

“He’s here to bring you breakfast now? Is that it?” Tooru drawled, taking in the red-haired figure. “Really, Sawa-chan is taking this spoiling too far.”

Ignoring him, Suga coughed. “I would like to introduce Hinata Shouyou,” he began.

“We know who he is,” Tooru said. “And-”

“Who,” Suga interrupted, “is going to join us today as a waiter.”

“HIM!” It was Kageyama who exclaimed, complete wide-eyed horror mixed with non-comprehension on his face. “Why?”

Tooru took a more measured approach in his disapproval, leaning over the counter to stare straight into Hinata’s eyes.  Hinata flinched, but after Suga squeezed his shoulder, he lifted his head and met Tooru’s gaze, even if he was trembling like a jelly.

“Good question, Tobio-chan,” he murmured. “You’re replacing me with ...”

“Hinata, yes,” Suga said cheerily. “Kageyama-kun, I would like you to show him the kitchen, where the aprons are kept, that sort of thing.”

Looking as if he wanted to throw something, Kageyama scowled, but didn’t refuse. He waited for Hinata to skip around the other side of the counter, then stalked back into the kitchen, leaving the door swinging.

Which promptly hit Hinata. “OW!” He reeled, holding his nose. “Did you do that deliberately?”

“Dumbass! Watch where you’re walking,” Suga heard Kageyama say.

_At least his nose isn’t bleeding._

“I better cancel my flight,” Tooru said dryly. “You’ll be a baker and a waiter down before the morning’s out.”

“We’ll see,” Suga replied cheerily. “Personally, I think they complement each other very well.”

“And he can bake, can he?”

“Not at all,” Suga said. He walked to the counter, touching Tooru on the arm. “You’re pretty much irreplaceable, Tooru. There’s no one to match you in the kitchen. But you’re not being stretched here, which is why you’re leaving. And... um ... the cafe never needed three bakers, did it? So, I needed to think about what the cafe lacked when you left, and ... um ...”

A clatter from the kitchen and a yell from Kageyama made them both wince.

“And a clumsy Chibi-chan is what we need?” Tooru tapped his temple. “I think Sawamura-san has turned your head so much you’ve lost all judgement.”

“Trust me,” Suga whispered, with far more confidence than he felt, especially as the next minute Hinata yelled another ‘ow’.

“I’m sure you must have your reasons,” Tooru murmured. “But all the same, maybe I should postpone the flight. I could leave with Iwa-chan next month.”

“No, you’re leaving on time,” Suga said firmly. “Hinata has other qualities, ones Kageyama could learn from.”

“DUMBASS! I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING! THOSE ARE MILLE-FEUILLE YOU’VE DROPPED ON THE FLOOR!” Kageyama screeched, and barged through the door. He gulped a little, then pointedly ignoring Suga, he bowed to Tooru. “I ... uh ... Oikawa-san ... there’s been an accident.”

Tooru, one eyebrow arched, studied Suga. “Going well, then.”

“Give him a chance, please, Tooru,” Suga whispered. “I know what I’m doing.”

He inhaled, then with a smile that was half-hitched to scorn, he turned towards Kageyama. “Tobio-chan, as Sugawara appears to have lost _all_ reason, I need to make sure my investment is sound,” he said, and held out his hand. “So, to that end, I am going to show you how to make the very best, lightest and _puffiest_ mille-feuille in the whole of Japan.”

The gasp was audible – from both Kageyama and Suga – and now smiling, Tooru pouted at Suga before leading Kageyama back into the kitchen. A few seconds later, Hinata scurried out, a wet dishcloth round his hand.

“I burnt it,” he said apologetically. “And dropped some cakes on the floor. I’m sorry, Sugawara-san.”

“Accidents happen, Hinata,” he soothed. “The first time I met Daichi, for instance, a sack of icing sugar exploded onto the pair of us, and he landed on the pavement on his ar... bottom. Yet we’re still alive.”

Giving the kitchen a side-glance, Hinata muttered, “Yeah, but Dai-chan... um ... Sawamura-san’s nice,”

Suga pressed his lips together, the urge to giggle almost overwhelming.

***

He wasn’t giggling an hour later. Hinata might have been a sunshine boy who appeared to charm all his customers as he delivered sandwiches, but remembering orders, and serving cakes and drinks to the table intact, appeared to be beyond him.  After the third cup of coffee he slopped into the saucer, Suga took him off waiting, and showed him the coffee making machine, which led to his second burn of the day on his cheek when he got too close.

The only saving grace was that Tooru and Kageyama had yet to appear, so engrossed were they in perfecting pastry for the lunchtime rush.

“Kageyama’s right, isn’t he?” Hinata said, scowling as he clutched another wet towel to his face.  “I am a dumbass.”

“It’s your first day,” Suga soothed. “And you’re ... um ... a little overexcited, but don’t worry. Go and splash some cold water on your face. Use the bathroom if you’d rather not go into the kitchen.”

He was drooping, and Suga knew why. Hinata wanted this job, wanted the chance to get away from only being a delivery boy, and Suga’s promise that if things worked well, then he’d train him up, had given him something to beam about. But the early morning customers were always hard work because they were either takeaways in a hurry on their way to work, or moms on their way back from the school run wanting a chance to sit down with a quick cup of coffee, before returning home.

Still, it would get better, and Suga was sure once he formed a connection with one customer, however tenuous, then his confidence would grow.  With one hand on his back, rubbing away a twinge, Suga reached for a cloth to wipe up some coffee splodges.

“Excuse me,” a deep voiced customer asked. “May I have a table?”

In an instant, Suga’s heart gave a little tug at his chest. He looked up from the counter he was cleaning to give the broad, broad shouldered man wearing a sharp charcoal grey suit a grin.

“Hello, shouldn’t you be at work?”

Daichi pulled a pained expression. “Probably. I wanted to see how Hinata’s getting on.”

“Uhm...”

“That bad, huh?”

“Um...”

Daichi laughed, so Suga punched his arm. “Stop it. He’s ... okay. I mean, he’s horribly clumsy, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever be able to let him loose near hot drinks, but he’s working hard and is desperate to do well.”

“And Kageyama. How’s he taken the news?”

“My apprentice is currently so annoyed with me, that he can’t speak coherently, but well, it has its upside. As Tooru’s also irritated at having Hinata here, he’s taken Kageyama under his wing. They’re currently bonding over crème anglaise and raspberry compotes.”

“Am I supposed to understand that?”

He giggled and shook his head. “No, but I can tell you it’s a good thing. A very good thing. Are you staying?”

“Mmm, I thought Hinata might like to serve me.”

Seeing the bathroom door open and a slightly less forlorn figure trotting out, Suga whispered, “That is an excellent idea.”

“Sawamura-san!” Hinata’s cheer rang out across the cafe, causing several customers to turn their heads.

“Little quieter, please, Hinata-kun,” murmured Suga as he walked past. “Right, will you show the customer to his seat and take his order?”

“Uh-huh. He can’t eat egg,” Hinata whispered.

“Yes, I know,” Suga replied softly, and waited.

“So ... um ... what doesn’t have egg here?”

_Yes!_ Suga hissed to himself, and hid a grin, but Hinata thinking of the customer, even if it was one he knew, helped Suga with his hunch that the boy was what they needed. “All the cookies are fine and the jam tarts,” he said, gesturing through the glass. “Also flapjacks, millionaire’s shortbread, and scones, when we have them, which is the afternoon.”

“Cool, cool, okay.” Hinata puffed out his cheeks, ran his palms down his apron, and scuttled over to Daichi.

With one eye on him, and another on a customer approaching the counter, Suga watched as Hinata, now far more comfortable, engaged Daichi in a conversation, taking his order, but spreading his own brand of sunshine around him. And the effect wasn’t lost on the other customers, who began to smile, too.

“Um ...” Hinata bobbed back to him. “He says he’ll have one of the shortbread things and a latte but he really wants Sachertorte. What’s that?”

Over Hinata’s head, Suga met Daichi’s eyes and caught the wink aimed his way. “Something he’s definitely not having, Hinata-kun.”

 

After Daichi had left, giving Hinata a high five, and blowing Suga a surreptitious kiss, Kageyama emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of freshly baked mille-feuille. With pastry layers almost as light as Tooru’s, the creamiest of fillings, and a zigzag chocolate icing pattern on top, he was justifiably proud, and slid them into place under the counter with an undeniable (if small) smile.

Hinata stared wide-eyed in awe, his gaze switching from the cakes to Kageyama’s face, focusing on the blob of crème anglaise on his cheek.

“They’re amazing . You made them?”

“Yes.”

“I wanna. Can you teach me? Can you?”

“Do you know _anything_ about pastry?” Kageyama asked coldly.

“Uh... it tastes good. And I like _that_ sort, ‘cause it’s kinda crispy but then it melts in your mouth.” He chewed on his lower lip. “So, will you teach me?”

Kageyama snorted and turned on his heel, but there was a smirk on his lips. “No,” he replied, and stomped back to the kitchen.

“Will you?” Hinata pleaded to Suga.

 “You need to start with basics,” he told him. “But maybe one day.”

There was a pecking order; Suga knew that. They all knew that, and Hinata was right at the bottom. With Tooru about to leave, Suga was going to be alone at the top, but he had faith Hinata would be able to climb, if not by the conventional route.

“Find your own ladder, Hinata-kun,” he said sagely.

“Uh ... what?”

_Wow, did I really say that aloud?_

Fixing him with what he hoped was an enigmatic smile, Suga said no more, but sent Hinata towards two young mothers, who’d wandered in. To his delight, Hinata – still excited at the prospect of learning something – was far more relaxed and was soon advising them on their choices, his enthusiasm unbounded when it came to the ‘Taste of Summer’ cupcakes.

“Very clever,” Tooru murmured. “He’s good with customers, isn’t he?”

“The very thing Kageyama-kun lacks,” Suga replied, satisfied.

***

He was closing up for the day, finishing the cleaning as Kageyama had hotfooted it to his evening class, when Daichi returned.

“Two visits in one day,” Suga said, reaching up to peck him on the lips. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“Wanted to see you,” Daichi replied. But he didn’t follow Suga to the stairs, instead he tugged on his sleeve, pulling him back towards him. “Will you come somewhere with me? Now, I mean?”

“Is it a romantic meal for two?” he asked, and gestured to his jam and butter cream smeared apron. “Only I’m not exactly dressed.”

“Sorry, no.” Running his finger down Suga’s cheek, he brushed away a crumb. “You were holding your back when I came in earlier. Is it bothering you?”

“Uh ... no ... not really.”

“What does that mean?”

“Slight twinge, that’s all.”

Daichi’s eyes narrowed, and for the first time, Suga clocked he was no longer wearing his suit, but black sweatpants and a hooded top – his training kit.

“Where do you want to take me?” he asked him suspiciously. “I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”

Daichi’s lips twitched. “Oikawa made me promise to support you, not that I needed him to nudge me, so ... you are going to start some exercise. Get those back muscles strong.”

“Noooo, I’m tired,” Suga pleaded. “And I hate gyms. Sweaty people and weightlifting – ugh!” He snuggled up to Daichi, another idea occurring to him, then getting onto his tiptoes, he murmured, “How about a massage instead?”

A sharp intake of breath, but just as Daichi appeared to weaken, running his hands up and down Suga’s body, emitting soft moans from his mouth, he gave a chuckle. “Nice try, Sugawara. Now, take off that apron and come with me.”

“I don’t have any exercise kit!” he tried.

Daichi grinned. “All sorted. You have no more excuses.”

 

Short of literally digging his heels in, there was nothing Suga could do but follow. He sat mutinously in the car, scowling whenever Daichi looked his way.

“Cheer up,” Daichi breezed, adding, “I thought you liked working up a sweat.”

“Not when I’ve had a hard day at work,” Suga muttered.

“Don’t sulk,” Daichi teased. “You might even enjoy it.”

“On a running machine?  I don’t think so.”

Daichi eased the car down a gear, slowing to a halt at a set of lights. “No running, I promise.”

It took him fifteen minutes to drive to their destination, Suga beginning to thaw as they reached the building. And Daichi risked a chuckle as he popped open his door, then picked up the kit bag from the back seat.

“Why are we here? Have you forgotten some work you have to do?” Suga asked. He glanced about him, spying a bar over the road from Daichi’s office. “I could wait there for you. Then we could eat. Far nicer than a rotten gym.”

“Nope.” With determination, Daichi steered Suga through the car park and towards the main entrance. “The gym’s here. The team use it, and we’re allowed to bring guests.”

“The team!” Suga stopped, pulling back on Daichi’s arm. “Absolutely not! You’re all athletes and I’m ... Daichi, I’ll look ridiculous!”

“No, you won’t,” he replied decisively. “Besides, most of the team won’t be here yet, so one quick session and then you can scoot off, or wait at that bar for me.”

“You’re not going to let me get out of this, are you?”

“Nope. You have no more excuses,” he said, and lowered his voice. “I don’t want your back giving out on me in bed again, okay?”

“Mmm.” He wrinkled up his nose, then fleetingly squeezed Daichi’s hand. “You have a point. Okay, Dai-sensei, lead on.”

The gym was half-full when they got to the basement. Three or four were Daichi’s work colleagues, finishing a session, who called out when he walked past. He waved in salute, but carried on walking. Suga, he noticed, was eyeing the apparatus with trepidation, sidestepping one particular bench press and chewing his lip.

“Changing room?” Suga asked. “I can’t wear these shoes.”

“Through there,” Daichi replied, grinning. “And you’ll be bare foot.”

The chemical smell hit them as soon as Daichi pushed open the door, and seeing it was empty, Daichi reached out and grabbed Suga’s hand, pulling him into the changing room, and grinning down at him.

“See, no running or rowing machines. No weights to lift.  And no personal trainer making you drop and do fifty,” he murmured. “Just me and –”

“A swimming pool,” Suga said.

“Yep!” He kissed him on the nose. “It’s perfect for core stability.”

“I have no trunks.”

“Ah-ha!” Daichi started to laugh as he swung his kitbag off his shoulder. “I already thought of that, and picked these up at lunchtime.”

“Daichi ... I ...”

“Here you go,” Daichi said, and dropped a pair of sky blue swimming trunks in his hands. “Should be your size, but there’s a drawstring, so ... go on.”

“Daichi.”

“Hey, I’ll turn my back,” Daichi continued and started to pull off his own clothes, dropping the sweater into his bag, kicking off his trainers and socks before sliding off his sweat pants to reveal a pair of black and orange swimming shorts.

“Daichi!”

“No excuses. Water’s warm, and afterwards ... if you’re good,” He leant forwards, brushing a tress of Suga’s hair behind his ear, “there’s a hot tub, okay? And ... a massage at my place tonight – if you want.”

With a small sigh, he wound his arms around Daichi’s neck. “Daichi, there’s just one thing –”

The changing room door opened, and Suga immediately dropped his hands. But Daichi, seeing who it was, didn’t let Suga step away.

“Semi-san. You remember Suga, I’m sure.”

“Of course. You run that _sweet_ little cafe,” Semi replied, dumping his bag on the bench.  He began to strip, hoisting his t-shirt over his head, and taking what seemed to Daichi to be an inordinately long time to loose himself from its folds. “I’m here for the steam room. And you?”

“Swimming pool,” Daichi said, and ruffled Suga’s hair.

 “I’ll ... um ... get changed,” muttered Suga, backing into a cubicle. “Meet you in there, Dai?”

“Sure.” He grinned at Suga, dipped his head to Semi and strolled out to the pool.

The pool was empty and still, lit by lights in the water, giving a mellow glow to the area. Daichi waded down the steps, letting the warm water swirl around his thighs, before he dived in and started to swim. He’d always enjoyed swimming, loving the way the water glided over his body, offering some resistance, but not too much. After two lengths, he twisted over onto his back, casting his attention to the door and wondering where Suga had got to.

And then he appeared, blue trunks reaching halfway down his thighs, and a towel worn like a cape around his shoulders.

He flapped his hand. “Hi.”

“Must stop meeting like this,” Daichi laughed, and flipping over, he swam towards the steps. “Water is very warm, by the way.”

“Yes ... um ...” He stood there, his hand clutched tight around the towel. “Daichi...”

Propped on the steps, Daichi took his time to study Suga, letting his eyes drift lazily up, taking in the slim calves, the mole skimming the hem of his trunks and the fair hair on his torso.

And the towel still clutched to his chest.

“It’s colder out there than in here, you know.”

“Um ... yes, I suppose so. It’s ... just ... uh ...”

“Sawamura, do they keep fresh towels anywhere?” Semi called out, poking his head through the door. “I only have the one.”

“Should be in the corner,” Daichi shouted.

He groaned when Semi appeared again, wearing one very small towel around his hips, especially as Suga, after a glance, appeared frozen to the spot.

“Which corner?”

_How many fucking corners are there?_ he thought savagely. “By the door!” he snapped. “There’s a bin.”

“Sorry to have bothered you,” Semi said, but instead of leaving, he smiled and stepped towards Suga. “Enjoy your swim, Sugawara-san, but you might find it easier without the towel.”

“Really, I had no idea,” Suga drawled, in a tone he could only have borrowed from Oikawa. Drawing himself up to his full height, he threw the towel over to a wooden bench, then with his hands on his hips, he turned to face Semi. “Enjoy the steam room, Semi-san. Not something I’ve ever needed... steam, I mean.”

Then, with what Daichi could only describe as a flounce, he twisted away and sauntered to the steps. He dipped in his toes, playfully splashing Daichi in the face, and took his first step in. There was something purposeful about the way he entered the pool, not checking back to Semi, or even looking at Daichi, he took the four steps down, letting the water splash against his thighs before he took the plunge, standing chest deep.

“Has he gone,” Suga muttered, not looking back.

“Yeah,” Daichi replied and started to laugh. “Why?”

“Because,” Suga hissed. “I can’t swim a single stroke, but there was no way I was letting _him_ know that.”

Daichi blinked. Then he reacted, immediately grabbing Suga by the waist and hauling him back to the steps. “You can’t swim?”

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

“But you’re in the pool,” he said stupidly.

“Well, yes, I can walk. I’m quite good at it.”

“You ... you ... WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING IN HERE?” Daichi roared.

“This was your idea,” Suga said, not the slightest bit perturbed. “And I did try and tell you – several times -  but you kept rabbiting on about hot tubs and massages so ... I kind of thought ... well, how hard can it be?”

Suga’s logic was infallible. Well, it was nonexistent, but it was Suga’s way of thinking about things, and for all that he was mad at him for not mentioning his lack of swimming ability, the next minute, Daichi started laughing.  “You fool,” he whispered, holding him close. “You bloody idiot. You could have drowned.”

“Not with my personal lifeguard on hand,” Suga said, grinning. He splayed his hands on Daichi’s chest, teasing the black hair with his fingers. “Besides, you’re very hard to resist dressed like this.”

Daichi tilted his head towards him, nuzzling at his ear, then, just as he saw Suga’s lips curve into a smile (because he thought he’d won) he nipped him. “An even better try, Suga-chan, but if you can’t swim, then all that means is that you need to learn.”

“Okay,” Suga said, screwing up his eyes. “If I promise, and I mean a ‘cross my heart and hope to die’ type of promise, to book in for swimming lessons, then can we get out of here?”

Shaking his head, Daichi peeled Suga’s hands off his chest (before he lost his resolve) and held them up to his lips.  He kissed each finger. “I’ll teach you. How about that?”

“As long as that bloody Setter of yours doesn’t see, then fine,” Suga grumbled. “Little cafe’ indeed. If he’d been any more patronising I’d have thumped him.”

“I think you got him back with the steam line, Sug,” Daichi replied. He chuckled. “Come on, let’s start.”

“What are you going to do?” Suga asked warily, then started to giggle when Daichi put his arms around him from behind. “Daichi!”

“I’m lifesaving you,” Daichi replied, and sliding behind him, raising his legs so he was flat on his back, he let Suga lie on top of him, both of them facing the ceiling. With one hand cupped under Suga’s chin, Daichi used his other to scull at the water, gently moving them both down to the far side.

“Is this the deep end?”

“Mmmhmm, but don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

“You promise?” He sounded worried, even more worried than Daichi had expected, and his body began to stiffen.

“I promise,” Daichi murmured. “In a ‘cross my heart and hope to die’ type way.”

“Don’t say that,” Suga mumbled. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, well, I do,” Daichi replied. He took one last stroke, kicked his legs out, then gently brought Suga to a stop, holding him while he grabbed the side.

“What now?” Suga asked, his voice quavering, which Daichi didn’t think was from the cold.

“I take you back to the shallow end.”

“Um... not that I’m complaining, but why?”

Daichi curled an arm around him. “Because, you’re clearly not happy when you’re out of your depth. So, I’m going to swim back with you, and we start from the basics.”

“I am not wearing armbands!”

“Not asking you to. I’ll get you to glide first, okay?”

Looking mutinous, Suga nonetheless submitted, and this time, as Daichi set off for the shallow end, he felt limper in his arms as if the worst had already passed.

They spent the next half an hour with Suga pushing off from the wall and into Daichi’s arms, gradually becoming more confident, especially when he knew he could put his feet down. And when he began to shiver again, Daichi knew this time it was from the cold, so scooping him up, he swam them both back to the steps.

“Well done,” he said as he got out. “Have you swimming like a fish in no time.”

“Don’t humour me,” Suga said wearily and reached for his towel.

“I’m not!” He touched him on the arm, running his fingers down towards Suga’s hand. “You did well – even putting your face under water, which is a great step.  So now ...” He trailed off, tugging Suga back towards him. “Want to see if the hot tub’s free?”

“Haven’t you got training?”

“Mmm, in thirty minutes. I can spend some time with you,” said Daichi, wrapping his arms around him, towel and all. “Or I could play hooky.”

Suga relaxed into him, twisting slightly to brush his jaw with his lips. “You’re the captain, Dai-chan, you can’t do that. Besides, Semi-san has seen you.”

“Yeah, he’s bound to grass me up,” Daichi muttered.  Then with a wry grin, he nudged Suga. “Jacuzzi awaits.”

The Jacuzzi was housed in a small room near the pool. It was less functional than a normal gym hot tub, and far more recreational to appeal to guests as well as the regular members. Daichi hadn’t used it much, preferring to scoot off home after a workout, rather than relax. But then he’d not had anyone quite like Suga before in his life.

With small star shaped spotlights dotted in the ceiling, and dark blue marble tiles, it felt like they were stepping into a Caribbean lagoon in the dead of night. As he shed the towel, the light danced off Suga’s hair and pearlescent skin, lending him such an ethereal look, that Daichi almost pinched himself to check he wasn’t dreaming.

 “This is relaxing,” Suga said as they both slipped into the bubbling water. “But don’t those mirrors get steamed up?”

Daichi took his hand, linking fingers under the water. “How steamy?” he murmured, and slid closer.

“You’re insatiable,” Suga replied, sounding reproving, but at the same time, his tongue began to lick Daichi’s shoulder.  “I guess we really can’t do anything here, can we?”

“Smooching’s allowed,” he replied, smoothing Suga’s hair off his face so he could petal soft kisses on his brow, “but ... uh ... I’m very conscious that the steam room and plunge pool are right next door.”

Suga groaned. “Semi-san.”

“Not only him - some others might turn up in a bit.”

“Shame,” Suga murmured. He brushed a drop of water from Daichi’s cheek.  “Do you really not like him? I mean, doesn’t that make it hard being on the team together?”

 “I respect him. He’s an excellent Setter, and I think we’ll work okay together. But off-court ...” Daichi shook his head, then nuzzled Suga’s neck. “I don’t _have_ to like the guy.”

“And you don’t?”

He shrugged. “As long as he’s not in my face and criticising my music, I’m kind of indifferent, to tell you the truth. Professional relationship, that’s all.” And then he paused because Suga had kept harking back to this. “Why are you asking?”

“Um... no reason. Team... uh ... dynamics.”

“But you’re uncomfortable around him. Why’s that?”

“Uh...” Suga wriggled against him. “He’s ... um ... well, as I said, he’s quite patronising, and clearly thinks Sugoi is something to sneer at, probably because I’m not an athlete and can’t press benches-”

“Bench press, Sug,” Daichi whispered. “Anyway, what does that matter?”

Suga laughed, sounding a little sad, then pulled back, staring directly into Daichi’s eyes. “Oh, Daichi, you are so kind, but I’m hardly the athletic type, am I? I look at you, I looked at Semi-san earlier, and I can’t compete with that. I’m scrawny. A wimp – your friends must wonder why we’re together.”

He blinked at him. The double take so strong that for a moment, or several moments, Daichi literally couldn’t breathe.

 “Why do you say things like this?” Daichi implored. “Do you really... _really_ not understand how ... Jeez, this is embarrassing, but do you not get how fucking hot you are?”

A silence descended, Suga staring up into Daichi’s eyes, until with a slight wince, he turned away.

“You’re biased,” he said lightly, and started to flip his hands in the water, splashing Daichi’s face. “I’m hardly an idol.”

“Stop that,” he whispered, clasping Suga’s fingers in his. “Tell me what I have to do to convince you.” And then his face darkened. “Is this about Oikawa and Hajime? Are you still hung up on that? Was something said?”

Suga closed his eyes and, for a moment, Daichi thought he was about to shift away, but then he rested his cheek on Daichi’s chest and murmured, “Yes, something was said, but it wasn’t Tooru.”

He stroked Suga’s shoulder. “Do you want to tell me?”

“An ex,” Suga said blandly. “My last ex. And not a very nice one as things turned out. I was seeing him at college. At ... uh ... the time of the accident, actually. In some ways, he reminded me of Tooru – all extravagant gestures and compliments – but that was only in public. In private I was boring, a pretty face and not much more.”

“Arsehole!” Daichi muttered.

“Well, yes, I know that now. I knew it then, to be honest. Itori was ... fun at first, and seemed so interested that I was flattered, but ... um ... the odd thing was, I didn’t really find him attractive. Not when it mattered.”

“So why are you letting his opinion hurt you now?”

“Because words stick, don’t they? Being told your lover prefers something with ‘a bit of meat on’, and ‘do you even know what a muscle is, Koushi?’- that kind of refrain stays with you.”

In the silence that followed, as Daichi thought through the scenarios in his mind, sifting through bland reassurance, laughter and denial, he settled at last for the truth from the depths of his heart.

“Sug,” he said at last, letting his fingers trail down Suga’s back, “have you seen yourself? Like ... really seen yourself?”

Suga coughed. “Um, well, yes, I look in the mirror every morning, and I also look at you, quite a lot, and I can see the difference in build –”

He kissed him, clasping Suga’s face in his hands, to draw him suddenly up to him, silencing the protestation that he was in any way inferior, because ...

“Come here,” he muttered, and scooting across the ledge of the hot tub, pulling Suga with him, he leant over the top and reached out to the mirrored wall.

It had steamed up, but with his hands, he cleared a gap, and then thrust Suga in front of him. “This is what I look at, Suga,” he said as he started to trail his fingertips down his face. “These eyebrows, this nose, your cheekbones...” He caressed with his thumb, moving up to sweep under the eyes again. “The beauty mark,” he continued, his voice barely audible above the constant whirr of the Jacuzzi. “And...” His little finger smudged the corner of Suga’s mouth, faintly tracing the bow of his upper lip.  “You are so beautiful.” His voice husked. “And I can’t believe that you are here with someone like me.”

He saw Suga swallow, saw the difficulty he was having in thinking of a reply, so to save him, he shifted around so Suga was no longer staring at his reflection, but up at Daichi instead.

“You’re not scrawny,” he continued, running his fingertips up Suga’s arms. “You’re lithe. As for my friends – teammates, too – they can’t believe my luck.”

He kissed him again, blowing across his neck, before gathering Suga up in his arms. “I hope you believe me, but even if you don’t... yet ... I’m going to make sure one day you do, because I love you, Suga, _so very much._ ” His voice started to break, so he stopped for a while, swallowing hard. “I really am incredibly fortunate to have you in my life, and you, poor sap, are stuck with an uncreative, brawn with no brains, goofball of a jock.”

There was a shuddering sigh, a half stifled gasp of a sob. Then, tilting his head up, Suga pouted a kiss on Daichi’s cheek, before sliding to his mouth. His tongue slipped between his lips, parting them while his hands wound around Daichi’s neck, drawing him even closer. Daichi kissed him back, tasting the salt of a tear down his left cheek, but there were no more, and after a while, the shake of his shoulders ceased as his breaths evened out.

Suga’s voice when he finally spoke was soft.  “A goofball with no brains?” He raised his eyebrows, a faint glint of mischief in his eyes. “Dedicated, inspiring, perceptive, funny, and  ...” he slithered closer, now moulding his hands over Daichi’s shoulders as the bubbles swirled around them, pressing down past his chest and torso,  “with really hot, _brawny_ thighs.”

He could feel the rush of water at the bottom of his back, and Suga’s hand slipping inside his trunks. There was a smile on his lips, not the wide beam, or the unsteady, tentative grin, but an almost smirk – knowing and teasing as he smoothed his palms around Daichi’s thighs.

“We can’t do this here,” he mumbled.

“I thought you said smooching was allowed,” Suga said his eyes round and innocent, as his tongue very un-innocently appeared between his teeth.

“What you’re doing,” Daichi rasped, knowing he should, but able to move away from Suga’s hands. “Isn’t smooching.”

“Preliminary.” He removed his hands, very slowly, letting his fingers paddle in the water jet, as he slid along Daichi’s thighs, pressing close.

“To what?”

He smirked again, and then pecked several kisses down Daichi’s face, following the line of his jaw, travelling to his neck and then shoulders.

“Suga,” Daichi murmured gently, when he’d reached his chest and was darting his tongue out to flick Daichi’s nipples. “What are you doing?”

“You said...” Suga began, “that I was very good for putting my head under water, so ...” He giggled, adding slowly, “How about I practise my breath control?”

“What are you- Suga ... NO!”

Then, _just_ as Suga puffed out his cheeks taking a deep breath, and _just_ as Daichi slipped his hand under Suga’s arms, stopping him from moving, they heard a voice.

“Hey, Captain, Ukai-san sent me to find ya... Oh!  Sorry, Sugawara-san, didn’t ... uh ... see you there.”

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, but he took his own deep breath before tilting his head back to stare up at his Ace. Now he had to decide what to do, whether to push Suga away and try to maintain decorum, or accept that Futakuchi saw them fooling around.

“Futa-chan,” he said, and deciding discretion wasn’t going to cut it, but brazening it out might, he scooped his arm around Suga’s waist. “Tell Ukai I’ll be with you in ten, okay?”

“Sure, Dai-chan,” he said, a slight tease in his tone. “Nice to see you again, Sugawara-san.  Don’t ... uh ... wear him out, though, will ya?”

“Don’t think I could, Futakuchi-san,” Suga called after him. “Your Captain is insa-”

“Suga,” Daichi hissed.

“ _Insanely_ fit,” Suga said, stifling a snort.

 

Back in the changing room, as Suga rubbed his hair with a towel, and Daichi pulled his clothes back onto his still damp body, he stepped up behind him and wrapped him in a hug. “Sorry,” he said.

“What for?” Suga asked.

“Hmm, I kinda railroaded you into the swimming thing, didn’t I? I should have asked you first.”

Suga grinned and half turned his face up to Daichi’s kissing his chin. “Mmm, maybe, but ... you know something?   I had fun. And it’s much, much better than pressing benches.”

_Bench pressing_ , Daichi nearly corrected, but didn’t because Suga looked so adorably proud of himself, the towel flopped over his head and a drop of water sparkling on his lashes, that he couldn’t find the words.

“I do love you, you know,” he whispered.

“Love you, too,” Suga said. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Being in my life. Expanding my horizons. Letting me see there’s a world beyond flour, butter and icing sugar.”  He sighed, but it wasn’t sad. “Just ... everything.”

A yell from the gym dragged him away from the fantasy he was entertaining right now of dragging Suga to the Jacuzzi, and back to the reality that was his life.

“I _have_ to go,” Daichi said, surrendering him with utmost reluctance, “but yeah, I feel the same way,  so... uh ... let’s thank whatever deity there is in this world for that bag of icing sugar, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go ...
> 
> I think I'm going to cry when this is over.
> 
> sniffle.
> 
> Thank you very much for all your support. You've made Cake or Break my most popular fic, and this means so much to me.


	15. Sachertorte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all good things must come to an end, but perhaps better things are on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you EVERYONE for the support and love I've received when writing and posting this. 
> 
> I need to especially thank Andy because if I hadn't sent what I thought was a dumb headcanon to her about Suga having a bakery, then none of this would have happened. At the time, I thought it was a boring idea, but Andy kept squeeing, and other people on her blog chipped in with ideas so ... yeah. There are a great many other people I need to thank, and I know I will miss out people if I try to list them all, so I'm not going to attempt it. Sorry, I'm a coward. Actually, I must mention Neij for the fanart and Megan for Shrimpy's backstory.   
> (Oh, there is a reference to a place that is for someone else - she'll know who she is, when she gets there :D)

As he let himself into his apartment, a delicious smell from the kitchen wafted towards him. Daichi’s heart fluttered on instinct.

“Hello, I’m back,” he called out, dumping his kit bag on the floor.

Suga bustled out of the kitchen, a knife in his hand and his work apron folded down so it tied around his hips.

“I lost track of the time,” he said. “Sorry, I haven’t finished the prep yet.”

“I could help,” Daichi replied. “I can chop vegetables at least.”

Suga shook his head. “It’s all under control.”

“Come here,” Daichi murmured, and gathered Suga towards him. He kissed him, tasting honey on his lips. “I wasn’t expecting all of this. I’d have been happy with a takeaway.”

“Make the most of me while you can,” Suga said, returning the kiss. “Once Tooru’s gone and the autumn classes start up, I won’t have nearly as much free time.”

“Did you,” Daichi began, stroking Suga’s face, “have a good afternoon off?”

“It was _productive_ ,” Suga said. “I saw that chiropractor you recommended and she handed me a sheet of exercises. She was much kinder than you and didn’t nag.”

“Probably because she finished her degree,” Daichi replied, grinning. “I left before they taught me ‘bedside manner’. What else did she say?”

“She said swimming was a very good idea,” Suga said and scowled up at him. “You win that one.”

“I’ll keep the ‘I told you so’ to myself as long as we keep going.”

“We will. The after benefits are too much fun to pass up,” Suga replied, and pulled away. “Anyway, thank you for letting me hole up here. Since Tooru decided Kageyama was no longer useless but his successor, he’s working him like a dog. Not that Kageyama-kun’s complaining.  But it does mean my kitchen is now carpeted in pastry. I can’t walk without crunching on it.”

Laughing, he wandered back to the kitchen, leaving Daichi pondering how great it was arriving home to find the apartment not empty.

He followed and leant against the table, watching Suga preparing vegetables, watching as his bum wiggled when he cut into them. “Sure you don’t want a hand?” he asked reluctantly because he was enjoying the view.

“No, I’m good.” Suga half turned his face. “I bought a bottle of wine, if you’d like a glass. I wasn’t sure if you drank during the week.”

“I’ll get two glasses,” Daichi assured him. “When the season starts, I’m a bit stricter.” He stepped closer, touching Suga’s shoulder, then dropping a kiss on his cheek. “I’m very boring when we’re playing, so I hope that doesn’t put you off.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” he replied, and then turned in his arms. “You may have noticed that I don’t have a rip-roaring social life either, and it’s going to get worse when Tooru leaves.”

“As long as we can be boring together, then I don’t mind at all,” Daichi muttered, and dropped a small kiss on Suga’s brow. “What are you making anyway?”

“Chicken Karaage, some soy fried veg and rice or noodles. Ready when you are, so what do you fancy?” Daichi grinned. Suga whacked his arm. “I meant food! Thought you’d be hungry after training?”

“Mmm, I am,” he said, now smirking. He ran his hands up and down Suga’s back, pressing his palms flat and drawing him closer. “Did your chiropractor say anything about the benefits of massage?”

“She didn’t, but ... I could make an appointment, if you think that would help,” Suga said, _sounding_ innocent.

“Tch, why bother her when you have me?”

He claimed Suga’s mouth, using his tongue to pry apart his lips, then his teeth to lightly nuzzle. Suga lifted his hands, entwining then around Daichi’s neck, fisting his fingers into his hair, to pull him closer.

“Come on, bedroom,” Daichi muttered.

But as they got to the door, he double backed, reaching to his kitbag. “Almost forgot,” he said as he pulled out a small paper bag, the logo of the nearby chemist emblazoned on it.

Suga’s eyes widened, looking not exactly jolted, but a little startled. “Um... what have-”

“Massage oil,” Daichi replied with a grin.

“Oh.” Suga laughed and held out his hands. “You _have_ thought this out, haven’t you?”

“As you said, I need to make the most of you, Sug, while I can.”

Now he had him sprawled on the bed, Daichi wasn’t sure where to begin. Wearing only a pair of briefs, Suga looked much as he had the first time Daichi had massaged him  (except for the fact that the briefs were _very_ brief – sitting high on the hips with a narrow elastic waistband connecting two triangles of black, silky fabric).  And for some reason (okay, it was the sight of Suga’s ass – his perfect round cheeks moulded into the pants) despite the fact they’d been together for nearly two months, Daichi found his hands were trembling.

“Been shopping, have you?” he muttered, fingering the material.

“Mmm, a few things,” Suga replied, a smile in his voice.

Stripping to his boxers, Daichi squeezed some oil into his hands, then dribbled more onto Suga’s back.

“Relax, sir,” Daichi murmured as he sat astride him, letting his thighs grip Suga’s ass.

“Is that a position you adopt with all your patients, sensei?” Suga teased.

“Only the cute ones,” Daichi replied, and leant forwards. “And only if they behave.”

Splaying his hands across Suga’s shoulders, he began the massage, then frowned because Suga’s neck was a mass of knots.

“You okay?” he asked. “You feel tense.”

“Anticipation, I expect,” Suga replied lightly, and rolled his shoulders. They clicked and he sighed as Daichi increased the pressure. “That’s so good.”

Still frowning, Daichi continued, deciding he might as well do this properly and concentrated on the shoulders before smoothing his palms down Suga’s spine. His lower back felt good, no knots or spasms, the muscle definition improving, so he pushed back up with his thumbs, feeling every niggle until he got to his neck again.

“You _are_ being professional,” Suga said, surprised. He raised his hand, stroking Daichi’s thigh with a flick of his fingertips. “Don’t relax me too much, Dai, or I’ll fall asleep.”

“Can’t have that,” Daichi murmured and relented. Applying more oil to Suga’s skin, he began to inch his fingers downwards, slipping under the waistband of his pants.  “You’re overdressed.”

He moved to the end of the bed, and now standing, began to glide his hands up Suga’s legs. He concentrated on the thighs, adding more oil so it dripped and glistened between his legs. And all the while, he kept an eye on Suga, checking his shoulders and his mouth, waiting to see if the dreamy smile would falter.

He knelt down, still running his hands over Suga’s skin, sliding up to his buttocks, and then he leant forwards, pressing his lips to a mole on Suga’s thigh, in the crease where it met his ass, delighting when Suga quivered. So he swirled with his tongue, slowly mazing a path across the top of his leg, flicking under Suga’s underpants.

Suga clenched, the movement involuntary, then relaxed as Daichi moved back across his leg, instead nuzzling his hip. But as he slid his hands under his briefs and over his ass, his thumb dipped down, and Suga gasped.

“Do you like that?” Daichi whispered, hesitant to continue.

Receiving no reply but a muffled groan, Daichi pressed his thumb against Suga’s anus, slippery with oil, and started to stroke.

“I can stop anytime you say,” Daichi said. “Or I can ...” He continued, now trailing a forefinger down to meet his thumb.

“Daichi...”

“Sorry...” Taking a breath, Daichi rocked backwards, sliding his hands down Suga’s legs.

But with a click of his tongue, Suga turned over and reached out, pulling him back to the bed. “Come here,” he whispered. “I think it’s about time you had some fun, too.”

“I was,” Daichi muttered, but he didn’t complain, not when Suga propped himself up on his elbows, and crossed his legs at the ankles, smiling lazily as he invited him to sit astride.

Seeing Suga’s cock as erect as his own, Daichi pressed into him and he groaned feeling the nerve endings of his perineum sparking anew as they rubbed together.  His own erection strained under the confines of fabric, he quickly levered himself off, tugging at his boxers and then returning to divest Suga of the slinky scrap of fabric masquerading as underwear.

A Suga who was now biting his lip, and only a glimmer of the confidence from only a few moments before apparent.

“Uh ... Daichi.”

“Mmm?” Daichi asked.

“Nothing really, just ... um ...”

“What’s the matter?” Daichi stayed his hand, resting it lightly on Suga’s chest. “Is it your back?”

Suga screwed up his eyes. “It’s ... uh ... not that. I ... um ... did some more shopping.”

“You did. What? New briefs for me, too. What col-”

“I bought condoms,” Suga interrupted. “Several sizes. They’re in my bag, over by the window.”

“O-Oh!”

Looking flustered, Suga half twisted away, burying a pink face into the pillow. “And I kind of want to do this, but ... um ... I’m not sure because ... well ... because ... it’s been a while for me. And anyway, I’m not even sure you want to. We’ve not actually talked about this, and I’m happy with things the way they are. If you are. But if you’re not, then maybe we should take this another step, because I’m sure by now in another relationship you’d ... uh ...”

“Suga.”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.”

He squinted at Daichi, so he smiled and stroked him on the shoulder, staring into his beautiful, cinnamon brown eyes.

“Have I killed the mood?” Suga asked, sounding fretful.

“Not really,” Daichi replied, winding his arm around Suga’s waist. “You clearly want to talk, and I think it’s a good idea.”

“Okay.”  Suga cleared his throat.  “So, anyway I bought –”

“Condoms, yeah, I gathered that.” With his other hand, Daichi touched Suga’s thigh, but made no further move. “I’m happy with things the way they are,” he murmured, and kissed Suga on the cheek. “Do I want to take the next step?  Yeah. But only if you’re ready.”

“It’s been a while,” Suga mumbled. “Since before my accident.”

“Mmm.” Daichi nuzzled his neck, hoping it reassured him. “You said. And I don’t mind taking this really slow. It’s ... um ... it’s not as if I’ve been with anyone recently either.”

“Really?” He shifted to his side.

“Yeah, really.” He flipped Suga on the nose. “Look, I had a boyfriend at school and a boyfriend at college – as you know. Since Hayato, there’ve been a few hook ups and nothing remotely serious. Really not many at all, only two were sexual, and nothing I’m particularly proud of,” Daichi muttered quickly. He kept his voice calm, but he trained his eyes on the bed sheet. “I’m kind of shit at playing the field, which is why –” He heaved out a breath and now, as he looked at Suga, he could feel his face flaming. “I don’t want to mess this up with you, so I’m happy to wait. And ... uh ...” Stopping again, he shuffled around so he was facing Suga and then he cupped his face with his hands. “And ... honestly, if you don’t ever want to, then that’s fine. It really is.”

“I do want to,” Suga breathed. He turned his face, biting at Daichi’s thumb. “Just ... um ... don’t want to ... um ...”

“What?”

“Let you down?” Suga suggested and winced. “I think, maybe it would have been better to get it over with, because then we could... um ... I’m ... sorry ... I think I’m as allergic to anticipation as you. I worry.”

 His face set into a frown, he kissed Suga hard on the mouth, tender but certain, lingering before quickly releasing him. “There is absolutely no fucking way that you could let me down,” Daichi said firmly. “No fucking way!”

And then his brow uncreased, a slow smile slid upon his face, and his hand slipped down to rest on Suga’s thigh. “How about we stop talking, and I show you instead?”

He edged down the bed, planting kisses across Suga’s chest, licking his nipples and nuzzling his stomach. His tongue slipped over his skin, until at last he came to his destination, and whistling out a soft breath on Suga’s cock, he licked his lips and took him in his mouth. Suga gasped and arched his back as Daichi sucked. Then his hand wriggled between Suga’s thighs and his forefinger started to stroke, soft as if he wasn’t really there.  And as he felt Suga surrendering to the sensations coursing through his body, Daichi released him, and his mouth began another journey, pressing his moist warm lips on Suga’s perineum, his tongue flicking around his anus.

“Hand or mouth?” he muttered. “Or ... uh...”

“Pardon?”

“Do you want,” Daichi whispered, “me to use my hand, my mouth or ...” he looked up, letting his chin rub against Suga’s pelvic bone, “would _you_ like to come inside _me_?”

Suga’s breath hitched, and his hands furled around the sheets. “I’ve never-”

“Would you like to, though?”

He watched him consider, watched the doubt collide with surprise and then a twitch of a smile appeared. Suga licked his lips, flashed Daichi a tentative glance and then shook his head. “N-not now. I ... uh ... bought the condoms for you. At least that’s what I had in mind.”

He rolled to the side, swinging his legs off the bed as he reached for his bag. “Here,” he said quietly but with determination as he dropped a packet from the same chemist Daichi had visited on the bed between them.  “Condoms for you, and ... um ... lube for me.”

“Mmm, I can see.” Peering into the bag, he examined the purchases, taking out the lube. “Cherry flavour, eh?” he teased and began to unscrew the lid.

 “I can do that,” Suga mumbled, holding his hand flat, not quite looking him in the face. Staring at him, seeing the tautness of his jaw, Daichi lifted a hand and circled Suga’s wrist. “No, lie down and let me.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Hey,” Daichi whispered. “You’re often telling me I don’t have to do things, but what if I want to?”

Liberally applying a slick of lube to his hands, Daichi slid his hand around to Suga’s ass. He was still slippery from the oil, his skin warm, his buttocks soft as pillows. And as he lay on his stomach, Daichi trailed wet fingers across his ass, stopping when he reached the centre. “I’ll take this slow, okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Suga breathed.

“Well, maybe I want to take it slow. I like ... uh ... watching you,” he muttered. His thumb started to stroke. Suga squirmed, slightly lifting his ass off the bed. So Daichi continued, using his lips and tongue to caress him. And despite his intention of taking this at snail’s pace because he wanted to fix every image in his memory, the vision beneath him, Suga’s mouth panting, his skin glistening, were catapulting  him into overdrive. Slippery with lube, he inserted one finger, heard Suga’s clutch of breath, and murmured a hurried apology.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Suga murmured. “Go on. I want you to...oh...” He clenched again, uttering something incomprehensible as he shifted onto his knees.

Daichi moved behind him, snaking his free hand to Suga’s belly, palm flat before grasping his cock, slowly moving to Suga’s intrinsic rhythm.

“Is this good?” he whispered, slowly withdrawing his finger, then sliding back. “More, or shall I stop?”

Suga whimpered, tilting his head right back. “Another, please.”

Daichi slipped a second finger inside, encouraging the stretch as Suga began to moan for more. He was writhing now, his eyes glazing over, his lips parting, but he started to say something, breathing hard as Daichi scissored his fingers inside him.

“What was that?”

“You,” Suga pled. “I want you inside me.”

“Uh... I am.”

“You know what I mean!”

Hiding a smirk, Daichi helped himself to a condom hurriedly tearing at the packet, and smoothing it over his cock.

“So... how do you want me, Sug?” he whispered, nipping at his neck. “I could carry on here...” His had drifted again to Suga’s cock. “Or, if you’d rather lie flat-”

“No.”

“Or I could lie flat,” Daichi said, kissing his shoulder while he waited.

“How about you sit up?” Suga replied.

“Mmm.” Daichi shifted up the bed, propping himself against the headboard, and pulled Suga onto him.

With a wiggle of his hips, Suga positioned himself above Daichi’s cock, slowly going down. His ass brushed Daichi’s tip, and a giggle emerged as Daichi twitched against him.

“More lube,” Suga suggested. He applied some to his hands, but instead of applying to himself, he ran his hand up and down Daichi’s shaft, grinning when Daichi began to groan.

With one hand grasping Suga’s waist, he held himself in place then submitted as Suga ever so slowly lowered himself. He was tight, but as he exhaled, Daichi felt Suga’s muscles relax as he allowed him inside. His face was flushed, his teeth biting at his lower lip, but there was no complaint, and he began to sink down, then rose to his knees.

“Oh my ... _fuck_ this is good,” Daichi rasped. “Are you okay? Are you okay?”

“Yes... Yes... Oh...” He sank down again, his hands smoothing up Daichi’s chest, and then he bent his head down. “Kiss me?”

As Daichi acquiesced, Suga’s kiss turned from tentative to passionate, sucking on Daichi’s lips, using his teeth to pry his mouth apart. And all the while, as he rose and sunk on top of him, his finger nails dug into Daichi’s back, and a faint cry husked at the back of his throat.

There was sweat beading on his brow, his hair sticking to his face and his eyes were glassy, but Daichi didn’t think he’d ever seen Suga look more beautiful. And then he arched his back, and he veered away from Daichi. The hands that had been gripping his shoulders, now trailed across Daichi’s thighs, his fingertips still moist and warm with oil and lube made faint featherlight contact with Daichi’s balls.

And he keened.

Watching Suga writhe on top of him, feeling his knees press into his waist, the vague touch of his hand, and now hearing that strangled cry emitted from his lips, Daichi bucked suddenly, instinctively, unable to stop.

“Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck!_ ” he cursed as he came. “Oh jeez, I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Come here...” He grabbed Suga pushing him down on the bed, raining kisses across his chest, kissing the sweat and lapping his tongue downwards, until his lips parted over Suga’s cock. He sucked – hard, no finesse needed as Suga jerked into him, his fingers tangling in Daichi’s hair, holding him in place.

“I’m ... oh... Dai-chiii,” he gasped, finally thrusting upwards.

Daichi held him close, feeling the heat of his body and the sweat on his skin  as Suga trembled back down to earth.

“Fuck, that was incredible,” he muttered. “I knew it would be good, but ... wow.”

“You liked it, huh?” Suga murmured, teasing the hair on Daichi’s chest.

“I don’t think there are words in the world to describe the experience.” He kissed Suga on the cheek, sighing deeply. “Mind blowing.”

“Good.”

“And you?” Daichi asked softly. “It was good for you, too, wasn’t it?  I didn’t ... uh ... hurt you, did I?”

“I’m fine,” Suga soothed, and started to kiss his chest. “The thing about being a cook, is that you learn the art of preparation.”

“Am I supposed to understand that?”

Suga giggled.  “Tooru’s Christmas present is no longer unused, put it that way.”

***

The Tokyo streets were crowded, traffic pouring onto the roads as people made their way home from work. In Daichi’s car, Suga watched the business men and women, some talking to companions, others banging their steering wheels in frustration as time ticked away. Catching sight of Daichi, eyes firmly on the road ahead, Suga nestled back into his seat, trying to stopper the sadness welling around him.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“That’s the third time you’ve thanked me since we got in the car,” Daichi said, and flashed him a wry smile. “And, no, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I’m ... uh ... kind of flattered you want me here, to be honest. And if you don’t want me to hang around, then-”

“I need you there, Dai,” Suga interrupted, leaning over to touch his arm. “You’ve been very good to me about all of this. I know it can’t be easy having me continually mope around.”

“You’re close and you’ll miss him, I understand that.”

“Mmm, I will,” he agreed. “And Hajime. I’m not sure how I would have got through the accident, or even college without the pair of them in my life.”

“I’m sure they feel the same way about you,” Daichi murmured, pulling up at a set of lights. He reached out and stroked Suga on the cheek. “Aren’t you their peacemaker?”

He laughed, hoping he didn’t sound bitter. “So they tell me, but I think it’s more likely I was most of the problem. Can’t be easy having an ex around at the best of times, let alone one with our additional history.”

The lights changed. Daichi drove on, saying nothing. But as they hit a clearer patch of road and he sped up, he glanced at him again. “Does Hajime know when he’s leaving?”

Suga closed his eyes, silently thanking him for knowing when to change the subject because he needed to concentrate on the positives today. “He has to work his notice, and then he’s trying to sort out a work permit.  Takeda-san should be able to offer him some work, but...” He grinned to himself, remembering Hajime’s face, and the scowl that seemed to have been erased from his features.  “He’s talking about college.”

“Doing what?”

“No idea,” Suga replied. “I don’t think he knows either, but he’s very happy. Tooru is too. I mean obviously he is, because this is his dream job, but he’s happier than I think I’ve ever seen him.”

“And you?”

The question dropped, landing between them. Suga considered it, weighing up his sadness with the very real happiness that had lit up his life in the past two months.

“Endings are sad, and I’m not sure how I’ll manage, if I’m honest,” he said softly, keeping his eyes on Daichi and noticing his tautness in his jaw. “But ...” he breathed in, “I have you and the start of something new, and that’s making me happier than I’ve been for years – perhaps ever.”

Daichi blinked, and peeping surreptitiously, Suga realised tears were forming in his eyes, so he looked to the side knowing he was close to crying himself.

“I forgot to tell you,” Daichi said after a while, “but ... um ... I ... uh ... heard from Hayato today.”

Hearing the tentative tone in his voice, Suga kept his reaction to a minimum, shifting slightly in his seat. “And?”

“He’s told his fiancée about me.”

“Wow, how did that go down?”

“Well, he’s still calling her his fiancée, but I’m not sure I’ll get an invite to the wedding,” he replied, pressing his lips together. “I get the feeling he’s told her I was an ... um ... indiscretion.”

Suga’s lips twitched, but he hurriedly pulled his face straight. “Does that bother you?”

“Uh ... not sure. I mean we were together a long time.” He sighed and ran his hand over his chin. “Guess it’s for the best.”

“Tell you what,” Suga whispered, leaning over, “If I promise to be your little indiscretion, will that make up for it?”

“How little?” Daichi asked. He slowed the car to switch lanes.

Suga stared at the roadway sign, catching his breath for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Daichi’s voice was chock full of concern.

“Airport, three kilometres,” Suga intoned, and sniffed. Then he shook his head, trying to remember what they’d been talking about. “How indiscreet do you want me to be, Dai?”

“You do not want to know, at least, don’t make me think about that while I’m driving!”

 

 

Tooru was in the checkout queue when they arrived. With three cases on a trolley, and a bag over his shoulder, he waved on seeing Suga, his face alight with pleasure.

_He should have gone two years ago,_ Suga thought, but he couldn’t waste time on regrets or guilt now. There were too many ifs and buts that had made their lives what they were, and ruminating on them didn’t solve a thing.

“What time do you call this, Kou-chan?”

“Your flight doesn’t leave for an hour and a half. It’s not me that needs to check in, Tooru!” he countered, grinning. “Where’s Hajime?”

“Buying me a newspaper and drinks. We’ve been in this interminable queue since forever. Mind you, he’s been ages.”

“Probably needs a break,” Suga teased. And then he stopped laughing, taking in the sight of Tooru and his perfect matching luggage, dressed to impress even on a long haul flight.

“You’re looking very businesslike,” Daichi said, stepping forward.

“I’m hoping they’ll offer me an upgrade,” Tooru replied, and flashed him a grin. “You’re wearing a suit to see me off, Sawa-chan. Thank you.”

“I came direct from work.”

“So, I’m not to flatter myself in any way, is that right?”  Tooru said mournfully. “And there was me thinking we had something special.”

“Leave him alone, Tooru,” Suga put in. He turned to Daichi. “If you want to find Hajime, that’s fine.”

Nodding, Daichi stepped away, but before he left he twisted around. “I did wear my best suit, Oikawa, and new shoes.”

“Then I am flattered. Thank you, Sawamura.”

“And, you know, you can call me Daichi - if you want.”

“Hmm, maybe. I rather like Suit-san.”

He left, giving Suga a wink before heading off in the direction of the shops. Suga watched him go, then returned his gaze to the man by his side.

“So ...”

“Yes.” Tooru agreed.

“You don’t know what I’m about to say.”

“Something sentimental about how this is a new beginning, and how I should grab my chances and –”

“Not at all. I was going to say...” Suga paused, trying to find the words in his head. He’d wanted to keep this light, to not break or add unnecessary sentimentality, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew he had no farewell speech. Everything that sounded right in his head was trite and laughable.

“I’m going to miss you,” Tooru murmured. “So very much.”

“Don’t start or I’ll cry.”

“Can’t help it.” Tooru pressed his lips together tight. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough for this without you.”

“Rubbish!”

“You keep me calm. Stop me getting irate.”

“You have Take-chan. He’ll sort you out, and Hajime’s joining you next month.”

“Not the same.”

“No, better, and you know it,” he replied. “I placate you, Tooru. Hajime’s shouting spurs you on.”

Tooru started to sniff, and the next moment he’d dropped the shoulder bag, and was holding Suga at arm’s length, staring down at him. “You are going to be okay, aren’t you?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Suga mumbled, and feeling a lump in his throat, he swallowed hard. “The shop will be fine. Well, as long as I stop Kageyama and Hinata from thumping each other, it will all be good. Yacchan’s offered to help me with the books, so that side is sorted out, too.”

“I don’t mean the shop. I mean you.” Tooru dropped his hands, aware possibly of the looks they were getting. “You _are_ happy with Sawa-chan, aren’t you?”

“Yes, very. I’m ... He’s wonderful, Tooru. I can’t remember being this happy since ... well, since college and meeting you, obviously.”

“Stop that,” Tooru said, and started to blink very rapidly. “Long time ago.”

“I know, but meeting you changed my life _so_ much for the better.”

“Even though I made you miserable?”

“You didn’t, not really. Any unhappiness only helped me appreciate the good bits,” Suga assured him, and squeezed his hand. “And there were a lot of good bits. Many, many fantastic memories.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me,” Tooru warned, and started to fan his face. “Come on, I have a flight to get through and jet lag will ruin my looks already without red eyes and tear splotches on my shirt.”

Suga whacked him on the arm. “Stop joking around! I’m going to miss you, Tooru, and you have to promise me, you’ll keep in touch. Skype, email, phonecalls. I want to hear from you.”

“I promise,” Tooru whispered. “And you have to promise that the first opportunity you get, you come out for a visit, yes?”

“Might be a while,” Suga said with a watery smile, “not sure I can leave the cafe in Kageyama’s hands. Not yet, anyway.”

“Hmm.” Tooru pursed his lips and looked at some spot in the distance. “You need to have more faith. We made a good choice there, Koushi.”

Suga raised his eyebrows, but didn’t bother to question the about-turn. Tooru was as temperamental as the weather, and would probably have convinced himself by the time he landed in Paris that Kageyama was his protégé. And, he realised, Tooru’s brazen volte-face was one of the things that had first attracted him, but as thrilling as it had been when they’d been together, he’d always felt too many steps behind.

“Anyway,” he said, aware he was sounding throaty. “You have to give all my love to Take-chan, and promise not to drink too much champagne, just because you’re in France.”

“I’ll save it for when you visit,” Tooru replied. “With Dai-chan, I hope.”

“I hope so, too.” He was breathing easier now, the sadness leaving him, because as much as this was an end, it was also the beginning of something much better for all of them, and it was untenable to be miserable in the face of Tooru’s excitement.

“Oi, you’ll miss your check-in if you keep yabbering!” Hajime catcalled.

He approached with a newspaper under his arm and carrying two cups of coffee. Daichi was behind, carrying another two cups. He looked a hesitant, on the outside again, which Suga knew he felt he was, so he stepped away from Tooru and up to Daichi, accepting the coffee.

“Tooru’s promising champagne if we visit,” he said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find some decent beer,” Hajime chimed. “And we won’t have to eat his fancy stuff all the time. There are burger bars all over the place.”

“Iwa-chan has been doing his research as you can tell,” Tooru said archly. “He’s also been looking at flights to London, something about a ‘British pub’, he said.”

“You can’t expect me not to make the most of this opportunity,” Hajime replied, and grinned. “And we’re near Belgium. I want to eat mussels and drink fruit beer.”

“Germany!” Daichi put in. “Beer festivals are amazing, I hear. And their Christmas markets. Maybe I should lay a heavy hint to Shimizu-san that the Crows need a European tour.”

“So where does that leave me?” Suga protested, mock-outraged because he could see the glint in Daichi’s eyes. “Stuck in Tokyo, working my fingers to the bone, while you three are painting Europe red!”

Daichi chuckled and ruffled his hair. “You can be the Crow mascot. I wouldn’t go without you. You’re my lucky charm.”

“In that case,” Suga replied, laughing, “I want to visit Italy and taste sfogliatella in Napoli!”

“Sir!”

Tooru turned, pushing his trolley up to the counter and smiled at the bored looking man behind the check-in desk. “Three cases,” he declared. “Yes, I know I’ll have to pay extra.”

 

The four of them sat in a bar waiting for the flight to be called. Tooru was restless, tapping his fingers on his knee, and not able to concentrate on the paper he was supposed to be reading.

“Why do these things always take so long? I want to get moving.”

He stopped fidgeting, and Suga knew even before he looked that Hajime had touched his knee, that one silent gesture calming Tooru down.

“Desperate to leave me, huh?” he murmured.

“Yes,” Tooru replied, but his smirk was a shadow of his usual insult. “This is interm-”

“Interminable, we know,” Suga said, his lips twitching. He brushed his hand against Daichi’s. “If you need to get away, then I can get back with Hajime?”

“No, it’s fine,” he muttered, and then he faltered. “Unless ... uh ... you don’t want me here.”

“Of course he wants you here!” Tooru said. “And I do, too. It’s um .. I suppose ... okay, now is as good a time as any, so ... I’ll ... uh ... I’ll come straight out and ... um ... well, what ...I mean  is ...”

“Tooru lost for words. It’s a miracle,” Hajime said, grinning.

“Iwa-chan, you are so rude. I’m about to make a wonderful speech. My farewell and you-”

“All passengers for flight Three Seven Oh to Paris, France should make their way to gate twenty seven. All passengers for flight Three Seven Oh to-”

“That’s me,” Tooru said, unnecessarily as they’d all heard.

“We can finish our drinks,” Hajime replied, but already he was shifting in his chair. “It’s not last call.”

“I know, but ...” Tooru took the deepest of breaths. “I need some time alone, I think. And ... can we say goodbye here?”

Suga’s vision blurred. Surreptitiously he patted his pocket, checking for a tissue, just in case. Well, who was he kidding? He was going to bawl, but he didn’t want to do it in front of Tooru.

He felt a hand in his - a bigger hand, one that was warm and comforting, giving his a squeeze.

“You okay?” Daichi mouthed.

Suga nodded. He turned to Tooru. “You take care,” he gasped, and the tears he didn’t want to spill swelled in his throat. “Have a good flight and ... um ...”

“Oh, gods, come here, Koushi!” Tooru cried, and dropping his shoulder bag, he held out his arms. “Ughh, this is so hard. I wanted to get on the plane and fly, but you’re making me cry.”

He hugged Suga close, so tight, Suga thought the breath would never return to his body. “You have to promise to visit!”

“I said I would!” Suga insisted fiercely.

“You might get distracted,” Tooru whispered. “Might forget about me.”

“Never!” And Suga couldn’t dam the tears anylonger. “First love, Tooru. You know that.”

“Potent,” Tooru agreed, his eyes flicking to Hajime. “But not the only love. Not _your_ forever love.”

And then he released Suga, wiped his eyes on his sleeve and turned to Daichi. “Take care of my boys, Shoulders-san. Keep them out of trouble.”

“Sure,” Daichi muttered, and Suga was astonished to see, even he was wet eyed. “Good luck, Tooru. I’ll ... uh ... try and arrange that tour, yeah?”

“Sweaty volleyball players in my smart restaurant?” he mocked, but his voice sounded thick. “Anytime. Bring Kuroo, I liked him.”

Finally, after a deep bow to Daichi, Oikawa turned to Hajime. “Well.”

“I’m not letting you go yet,” Hajime muttered. “You can say goodbye to this pair here, but you and me are having a snog at the gate, and I don’t care who sees us.”

He twisted round, catching Suga’s eye and Suga nodded. “Let’s go,” he said to Daichi. “Hajime, call me, yes?”

Hajime gulped and then, clapping his arm around Tooru’s shoulders he led him away. And Suga watched for a while, waiting for Tooru to turn back, or maybe for himself to wake up, because this all felt unreal. Except Daichi’s hand in his felt very real.

As they reached the entrance to the gates, Tooru turned around, giving a final wave and a flurry of blown kisses.

“What do you want to do now? Shall we wait for Hajime?” Daichi murmured.

“He’ll be a while.”

“I don’t mind.”

***

Hajime had wanted to go home, and not for a drink as Daichi had thought. Suga had seemed reluctant to let him go, trying to persuade him to join them for dinner, but Hajime refused. He looked exhausted, so maybe he wasn’t lying when he said he needed an early night. Suga too had dark circles under his eyes, which were now red as well.

And Daichi wasn’t sure if he could ever quite match up. Again he was on the outside. Tooru’s departure only affecting him by proxy.

“Do you want to come over to mine?” he asked Suga when they were in the car. “We could go out, or curl up with a film and a bottle of wine.”

“Will you come to Sugoi instead?” Suga asked. “Kageyama’s there, but I want to show you something.”

“Sure.”

So he drove back to the cafe, more or less in silence because Suga was wistful, staring out of the window and making vague comments about the weather which Daichi didn’t think he was supposed to reply to.

It was dark when they got back, no lights on, and wandering in, Suga looked puzzled, calling out for Kageyama, but on receiving no reply, his face suddenly cleared. “He has an evening class. I forgot.”

They went in through the back way, but instead of leading Daichi to the stairs and up to the flat, Suga pulled up two stools, and gestured for him to sit at the counter.

“Tea, coffee, beer?” he asked. “Or wine. There’s some here if you’d like.”

“Depends if I’m driving,” Daichi murmured, looking into his eyes.

They glimmered, warm and bright. “I have to be up early, but I’d like you to stay, if that’s possible.”

“Mmm, sure.  I didn’t know if you’d want to be alone, like Hajime.”

Suga shook his head. “I’d like company. Well, your company.” He took a breath, then wandered across to the big refrigerator in the corner, and pulled out a small bottle of wine.  “Muscat,” he explained as he poured a little of the amber liquid into two glasses, “is a dessert wine, made to be drunk with something sweet.”

“Okay,” Daichi said, and held the glass to his nose before taking a sip. “It’s _very_ sweet.”

“Mmm, and I know you prefer dry, but the thing is ...” Suga trailed off and twisting away from him, he sauntered over to the other side of the kitchen, picking up a white cardboard box in his hands. “The thing is, Daichi, when you’re eating something sweet, the sweetness of the wine is nullified.”

“Are we eating jam tarts?”

“No.” He placed the box in front of Daichi. “Open it.”

There were cupcakes in the box, cupcakes topped with frosting in a myriad of colours, green, orange, pink, purple, blue and yellow. All beautifully decorated with delicate icing flowers and butterflies, the details of each petal or wing, caught in sugarpaste.

“They’re very beautiful, like you,” Daichi said regretfully. “I’m only sorry that I can’t try them.”

“Ah!” Suga replied. “That is where you are wrong.” He reached into the box, picking up the dark red cake with his fingers. “Egg free sponge,” he murmured as he broke it into halves. “I have been experimenting again.  And these are the result. Have a try?”

“You did this. For me?”

“You and no other,” Suga whispered.

He accepted the cake from Suga’s fingers, holding his gaze, and licking a stray sliver of frosting off his thumb. The sponge was moist, sweet, light and every bit as good as Daichi had remembered. It melted in his mouth, and he could taste not only vanilla but a hint of something else.

“Cherries?” he asked, grinning.

“What can I say? I like the flavour,” Suga teased.

“So do I,” Daichi murmured, and picking up Suga’s hand, he raised it to his mouth, kissing each fingertip, sucking the rest of the frosting off his index finger. “I like cherries, too.”

“More cake?” Suga asked, removing his hand to push the box towards him. “They’re all different flavours.”

“I’m going to have to exercise a lot more, I can tell,” Daichi replied, and dipping into the box, he selected the green one. “Lime?”

“No, pistachio.”

He nibbled it, licking a little of the frosting, before catching the icing butterfly with his tongue. “Mmm, it’s good. I should feel guilty for enjoying something so beautiful, but since I met you -”

“You’re making me blush.”

“I know. You’re adorable, you know that?” He swallowed more of the cake, and watched Suga as he chased a crumb on his lip with his tongue.

And then he knew. The idea that had been percolating in his mind for a week or maybe more, maybe since that first date, or the party, or perhaps it had been that first glimpse of him from across the road, would not stay dormant.

“Move in with me.”

“What?” Suga stared at him, and his cheeks, which had been pink, now paled.

Daichi took both his hands. “Move into my apartment, or if you don’t like that idea, then we could buy one together.”

“This is ... um ... unexpected,” Suga mumbled, but he didn’t break eye contact.

“Is it?” Daichi squeezed his fingers. “Coming home to you last week felt _right_ , don’t you think?”

“Yes, yes it did...” Suga trailed off, chewing the side of his mouth.

“I do pick up after myself,” Daichi said, smiling. “Look, I don’t want to pressure you, so can I leave it in the air, something for you to think about?” He sniffed, then picked up some more cake. “That was a conversation stopper-”

“Yes!” Suga squeaked, then swallowed and blinked rapidly. “I’d love to, Daichi. And your apartment’s amazing, so, um ... yes, yes please.”

He got to his feet, his smile wider than Daichi had seen, looking so vividly alive, that it was hard to reconcile this with the tears from earlier.

_He’s happy,_ Daichi thought. _He’s happy with me._

Suga gasped, holding his hand to his mouth. “There is room for Shrimpy, I hope!”

“Pride of place in our bedroom. I won’t even make him sleep on the horrible couch,” Daichi replied gravely. And he grinned, the last doubts he’d barely knew existed falling from his mind, like chains crashing to the floor.

Suga was chattering, making plans already, excitement making his voice quaver, happiness causing him to giggle. “Now Kageyama won’t have to move out. He can stay here, and in a month or so, I won’t even need to supervise the early mornings. ”

He stood up, pacing around the kitchen as he talked, his hands expressive. “This is ... I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Daichi replied, and catching him around the waist, he got to his feet. His heart was dancing with love, so he twirled Suga in his arms. “I love you, so very much.”

“I love you, too,” Suga whispered, then laughing, he pulled away and spun on the spot. “We have no music.”

“Do we need it?” Daichi asked, shimmying towards him

“Not at all!” Giggling, Suga sharply backed away, too sharply, and the heel of his shoe, slipped from under him.

“Watch out!” Daichi leapt forwards, trying to pull him back up, but it was too late, and both toppled backwards, careening into the wall.

A bag fell from the shelf above, cascading its contents onto their heads. White clouds puffed around them, and despite falling, both began to laugh.

“Icing sugar!” Daichi exclaimed.

“Another suit ruined, Dai-sensei,” Suga replied, giggling. “Isn’t this where we began?"

Daichi gazed at him, taking in the snowy-white hair, the icing covered face, and the smile as bright as the sun. He lifted his hand, touching Suga’s left cheek, just under his eye. “No, we began when I saw you across the road. An angel with quicksilver hair, gleaming in the sun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, it ends. My first multi-chaptered AU. Thank you, again, everyone who has supported by reading, kudosing, commenting, reblogging and sending messages on tumblr. Your enthusiasm has made me so happy.
> 
> Okay, so I do want to write some oneshots (Tooru in Paris, Semi maybe not being an ass, Tendou wheeling and Dealing, Bokuto ... just more Bokuto) and I am thinking up a sequel starring one person who didn't make it into this story, the one person I feel very guilty about leaving out. However, it needs a lot more thought, so bear with me. 
> 
> Pressing the Post button on this final chapter has been the hardest thing to do.
> 
> weeps for a thousand years.
> 
> It is done.
> 
> Fin.
> 
> Complete!

**Author's Note:**

> There are fifteen chapters to this story. I have finished it, so you won't have to wait long for updates.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this and if you do, then feel free to drop me a line in the box below or else on tumblr.


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